


Shadows Fall

by Eisengrave, selwyn



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 04:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12335181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eisengrave/pseuds/Eisengrave, https://archiveofourown.org/users/selwyn/pseuds/selwyn
Summary: [Sequel to Follow You Into the Dark]Vigilem awakes, but he does not hear his Prime. Determined to set Liege Maximo free from the prison within, the titan is prepared to do anything it takes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Follow You Into the Dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12257880) by [Eisengrave](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eisengrave/pseuds/Eisengrave), [selwyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/selwyn/pseuds/selwyn). 



> slight deviation from canon because fuck canon

Something was lurking in the distance. Something just beyond his reach. Something he couldn’t quite grasp. He stirred. Or did he? Was he moving? Was he? 

There was no light, no warmth. Was this space? Or death? Was death this cold? Was death this quiet?

He could not feel but he knew he existed, so it was not death. Was he still...what was his name? He had one, of that he was sure...he had a good name. What was it? Why were his thoughts so slow? He tugged at them, impatient and demanding memories, but received silence instead. 

Why? Where was he?  _ When _ was he? 

There was something missing. A voice. His own, or another’s, he couldn’t tell, but its absence caused him grief. He reached out with something that moved without force and obeyed nonetheless. Nothing stopped him and nothing brushed against him. His path lead to nothing. No barriers bore down on him and neither did anything else.

Was this a void? Was he? Something had to exist beside him. He called for it without a voice, without the knowledge of how words were shaped. 

_ Hello? _

Something had to answer, right? The void could not be all there was to this existence. He knew he was real. There was so much of him; vast and sluggish regions of memories he could not touch, emotions that he could not feel. He...he was someone. And that meant there had to be others...right? 

He remembered others. They were vague shapes in shadows, distant voices he could not quite hear. They were small, so small. He was not. He was something else. That much he knew. But what else? What did he know? How did he know? Was he something outside of this silence? He tried to see, and found bright dots in the darkness. Some shone close by and some were far. All of them were beyond his reach.

_ Stars. _

They were stars. A memory came to him dimly, brushed his mind gently, and brought with it dull awareness. The knowledge of what those lights were confirmed that he was something, something that knew what things were.

It did not satisfy him, but he could content himself with the knowledge. If he knew what stars were, he must be right about the small voices, which meant they must be out there.

The longer he was silent, the more he could hear. Beyond the darkness, there was nothing. But inside...inside the void, he heard small noises - flat, dull, echoed. What they were, he could not remember. Yet. Maybe it would come to him.

Maybe someone would answer him.

_ Hello? _

Beyond Vigilem’s nebulous mind, his systems registered his vague consciousness as highly classified readings.

 

Two people stirred without knowledge of each other. Both of them sought the newest addition in their midst, though for different reasons.

Deep inside his prison, Liege Maximo raised his head as something registered in his mind. It took him effort to understand where it came from. It took more effort to untangle it from his own thoughts and understand that it was something  _ else _ .

He touched it slowly, running mental fingers over it as if to further understand what came to him. It was dear to him, that much he knew despite the fraying edges of his mind. When it seemed to pulse with life, his spark squeezed with uncommon emotion. Who was this? Who was this thing that he loved so much?

Did he dare remember?

_ Hello? _ He echoed the thought that came to him, too tired to be hopeful.  _ I love you _ , he added without a reason why. It simply felt  _ right _ .

 

In the privacy of her command room, Elita-1 watched the readings print out on the screen before her impassively. The master console for Carcer’s systems lay on her lap, ready for use if anything was amiss. Right now, the waking of the titan was proceeding to plan. He did not spring to consciousness. He did not bluster and snarl while turning his internal systems against his inhabitants, which must mean he was under control. For now.

When it seemed that he was awake enough for her, Elita-1 thumbed the console to speak to him. It was wired directly to his brain so that his internal audials were not necessary.

“Carcer, it’s good to see you are awake again.”

 

Oh.  _ Oh.  _ He felt joy, pure and simple, as two answers found their way back to him. He was not alone in this void, he was not alone at all!

The first answer he received went straight to his spark. Nestling against it, it was perfect and soft and foreign. He did not know who had answered him and how, but he cherished the sweetness of the words he barely recognized. He was beloved. Beloved by someone out in the stars, because the voice was so, so far away. Maybe it was a star that had whispered to him. He could feel nothing but sweet longing. And the voice had spoken of love. He was beloved, by something, someone.

_ Hello, beloved, who are you? _

The other voice that came to him was strong and present and it ordered him to respond to it. He offered the same question, but he did not speak softly. This was a command. He remembered, he was often commanded. It was his purpose to obey, so he answered promptly.

_ Who are you? Who is Carcer? Am I Carcer? _

 

Who was he? Who asked this - someone else or himself? Again, he had to extricate the words out of his own head just so he did not mix them up again.

_ I was called Liege Maximo _ . No one called him that now. No one called him anything. He hadn’t spoken to anyone for so, so long.

_ Who are you? _

 

“You are Carcer,” Elita-1 confirmed, “and you obey me.”

She kept an optic on the readings. So far, so good. “I am the leader of this vessel - of you. You were woken for a purpose.”

Obsidian sent her a ping. The damaged starboard had been loosely patched up, but it was not perfect. None of them were titan engineers, not when Vigilem had disallowed them from ever entering his internals, and their lack of knowledge came to bite them in the aft. Carcer had to aid them along the way, or they’d lose another deck to cosmic rust.

“Obey me, Carcer. I want you to register damage on your starboard.”

 

_ Carcer. I am Carcer.  _ He gave it as an answer to the starry whisper and took it as fact for himself. He had a name and a commander. She - the voice had given him no choice but to accept the way it would be addressed - had claimed him a vessel. So he was indeed large. It made sense, he could accept it.

_ Why was I asleep, leader of this vessel? What is your name? _

 

_ Hello, Carcer.  _ Maximo reached across the link, trying to grab more of the presence, but it was like trying to snatch feathers out of the air. His own passing strength kept blowing him back, making him farther and farther away.

“You were commanded to. You may call me the First. Now, obey me, Carcer, or you will sleep again.” Her thumb hovered over the master console. 

 

_ No. I am awake. I will not sleep.  _ Registering his actual form was like sifting through an ever changing pool of mercury, but eventually, more came to Carcer. He had a body, a frame. Inside of it, many little lives and stars, no, sparks, scuttled around. Hr was their home, their vessel, their ship.

And he was in pain. The registration of damage came with an acute ache that fed back into his consciousness and he questioned the wisdom of waking him to such things.

_ It burns. _

The leader would give him no comfort, so Carcer retreated into the other voice.  _ Liege Maximo. Do you know me? Do you know the leader? Do you hear the leader? _

 

“That is why you must obey. You can fix the pain.”

The small spike in consciousness made her thumb twitch over the shutdown button. After a moment, however, she instead thumbed down the switch to shut off his spatial awareness. He did not need it for this.

“Do as I say, Carcer, or it will only worsen.”

Elita-1’s cold tones were not touched by Maximo’s presence. He curled closer and answered him.  _ No, no, no. _

Did he know him? He thought he should but thinking about it made him hurt too much to linger. It was better to say no and deny than to open that box again.  _ You are you. I am I. Hush. _

 

_ Are you within me?  _ Carcer could only obey Elita, who found no resistance in the titan who, if fully awakened, would surely be her death. Carcer’s muddy mind was clearing slowly, but not enough to allow him actual memories.

_ I love your voice. I can feel it. It is all I feel. _

The leader didn't wish for him to speak more, did she? She was...frightening. But Carcer could not disobey her. Maybe he should not mention Liege's star-voice. It belonged only to Carcer.

_ How do I fix the pain? I cannot see. I cannot hear. I cannot move. _

 

“You feel the pain. You know where it is coming from. Find it. Feel everything there. Move yourself so that you no longer hurt.” She let him have control over that section of the ship with a few more flicks of her fingers. “Do it now.”

_ Maybe.  _ He was in darkness and all he heard was the voice, coming from the walls. Or from inside him. Maybe he was, maybe he was not.  _ Maybe you are in me. You are all to me. We are the same. _

_ Pain? I don’t know pain. I want to help. _

 

_ I can move. I cannot.  _

Carcer had a body, yes. But it did not obey him, hindered by restraints he could not feel, but knew they were there. Someone had done things in his frame, made it rigid. The limitations of his own mind were boundlessly frustrating. Enough for him to develop annoyance for his tone. 

_ Can you help? She commands me, but I cannot obey. Help me, Liege Maximo. _

 

_ I will.  _ He was not sure how, but he pressed all his might into the link. If the voice was real, then he wanted to help it. Aid it. He offered all that he could in the hopes that it might be enough for him.

_ We obey together. _

“Carcer, why aren't you moving?” Elita-1’s voice grew colder. “Do you  _ want  _ to sleep?”

 

_ I don’t want to sleep. I cannot move, it is...blocked. There is much in the way of me. Why can I not see? _

Carcer didn’t want to be disobedient, but it was so hard to do what he’d been commanded to do. None of his frame felt familiar and everything was stiffened by millions of years of disuse. Maybe the leader could be merciful and patient if he explained.

_ Please, what am I? Am I a star vessel? What is it I carry? Why can I not feel you, leader? _

To the smaller voice, the warm one, Carcer whispered his secrets.

_ I fear her. She does not mean well.  _

 

“These questions are unnecessary,” she said, “you don't need answers to them now. If you cannot do this, then you will go to sleep.”

Little by little, she began to shut parts of him off. If Carcer was disobedient, he would be punished. Simple.

_ I won't hurt you,  _ Maximo promised.  _ Perhaps you should obey. Just for now. She may hurt you otherwise.  _

 

_ I don’t want to sleep. _

That much, Carcer knew. He moved the parts that ached as if they were on fire, until they were turned completely to the cold darkness of space. The itching was soothed, for now, and his limbs felt vaguely smoother. Limbs. That’s what his frame consisted of. The many little sparks inside of him were not a part he could control.

He clung to the warm voice over the cold command of his leader, leaning into the memory of softly confessed love. He was someone, and not just some _ thing. _

_ I obey. Do not make me sleep. I wish to know what I am. _

 

Elita watched with silent approval as the ship's shifting registered. Obsidian reported the starboard sealed again, and she huffed with satisfaction. Good. Now that the worst of the damage was closed, they could work on the rest.

“Good. If you want to know, you must keep obeying. There is a blocked off corridor in you. Open it.”

 

_ Locating... _

Carcer could feel which corridor was blocked, but he’d rather use the opportunity to look through himself. He was not a house, or a big building, he was a ship. But his internals still felt off, wrong, as if this was not the shape he should be. Everything was flexible, everything could be moved, and yet he remained.

It was the little sparks, he surmised. The little sparks could not travel as he could, and so he carried them. Were they part of him, yet not? Were they all his masters, as the cold one was?

Puzzling questions crowded his mind as he moved the blocked corridor and dutifully reported it as a task fulfilled to Elita-1. She didn’t seem inclined to give him anything in turn, but Carcer remained hopeful. She had said he would know if he kept obeying.

She didn’t seem to know about the warm voice.

_ You are not with the little sparks, Liege Maximo? _

 

_ What are they?  _ Little sparks… little sparks… it made him angry, for reasons he ignored. White-hot rage suddenly erupted on his side of the link and Maximo moaned in pain in his prison.  _ They don’t belong here. They don’t belong to you. You’re  _ **_mine_ ** _. _

“You are my vessel, Carcer,” Elita-1 said. “You are my titan. That is all and nothing else. There are decks inside you. Some of them have been broken. Rearrange yourself so that the broken areas no longer block off anything.”

 

_ Titan? _

Between Elita’s cold commands and Maximo’s rage, Carcer felt nothing but confusion. Elita-1 claimed he was hers. Liege Maximo also claimed he was his. Who was right? Which of them spoke true? Was there truth in both of them? Then why did they not speak with one another? Why was Liege a soft warmth in the void and Elita a cold voice within?

Carcer wanted to wake up further, to let the fog be cleared from his mind. 

_ I am a titan? What does that mean, leader? _

To Liege, he offered soothing, even if he did not understand why he was upset.

_ She does not know about you. She says nothing. You must be my secret. _

 

“It means that you must stay like this and do as I say.” The constant barrage of questions, as if from a young spark, irritated Elita-1. She did not wake him up so he could ask her his entire history. If it had been an option, she would have snapped at him to learn on his own. “You are a vessel, nothing more.”

The soothing that he offered Maximo was little assurance. Maximo continued to bristle and snarl inside him, like a boiling pot now overflowing.  _ They do not belong in you. They cannot be in you. They are our enemies. _

 

_ Enemies? But I carry them. They cannot be in space. They are not stars. _

Carcer’s attention latched to Maximo and nothing else, leaving Elita-1 with the silence she wanted from the titan she enslaved. Carcer shifted the corridors and broken pieces of himself, but they did not feel familiar. They were parts of others, or deadened to his sensors. He felt heavy, encumbered with pieces that did not fit. He crowded the diluted, soft, and warm voice of Liege Maximo, even as it trembled in anger.

_ They call me home. _

 

_ My home. Not theirs.  _ Like a rusted door slowly opening, the memories began to slip through. Maximo snatched at their frayed ends, feeling the emotions of them filter through him like hot oil. He shuddered and turned his face away, as if by doing so he might ignore what happened.

_ I love you. They do not. They don’t care for you at all. _

The work was almost done. Soon, Elita-1 could press Carcer back to sleep and forget him. Not yet, but soon. Her optics narrowed, however, as she registered the silence on the other side. What was he doing? Was he planning something?

“No more questions?” she asked softly.

 

_ How do you know? They...repair me. I obey them.  _ Carcer couldn’t quite make sense of any of this. Elita-1 gave him orders and he moved his physical form to obey, but something in him yearned to soothe and quell the anger in Liege Maximo, who was a secret little spectre in the corner of his vast mind.

_ You do not like to answer them, leader. I will not ask them of you. _

 

Elita-1 narrowed her gaze. “How much can you think, Carcer?”

_ Why must you obey them? Why are they there? Why are you there?  _ Maximo was no longer the whispering voice that he started as. He was growing louder, stronger, brighter through the link, like the sun rising from behind distant mountains.  _ No one must obey. _

 

_ I’m not sure how to answer that question, leader. How do I calculate my capacity to think? _ The more he spoke to both of the voices, the more words and thoughts returned to him. He had the vague notion that he’d like Elita to be angry, or that he wanted to be angry. Between the two, too much blurred the lines so Carcer chose neither.

Maximo though, he held even closer. He was warm and his voice reached deeper, to parts of Carcer that were frozen with silent sleep. Maximo was a shining light that Carcer could turn the blindest sight to and see.

_ I know you. And yet I don’t. I can’t see you. I see her, she is the color of blood. But I do not see you. _

 

_ I can’t see myself. I know you, and I don’t. Are you me? Am I you? Are you real?  _ The questions ran off one after another, until Maximo settled down again.  _ I can’t answer that, But I know her.  _ **_I know her_ ** _. _

In response to that, Elita-1 cut off Carcer’s ability to feel his internals. It would be wiser to put him to sleep entirely, but something in her wanted to know. “Carcer, where is Liege Maximo?”

In case that name triggered a reaction, she rested her thumb on the shutdown.

 

Carcer mourned the absence of feeling. He could no longer read what the little sparks were doing, or which parts of him hurt and which didn’t. All that was left was the vastness of his frame, a sizeable husk floating in space.

Elita-1’s question caught him off-guard too.

_ She knows you,  _ he whispered, fearful of having his secret revealed. Secrets would not be tolerated, would they? He was to serve; servants did not keep secrets from their masters.

_ I do not know. I cannot see him. Where is Liege Maximo?  _ Longing and grief colored even his simple transmission, a disturbing amount of static lacing his systems.

 

“Can you hear him?” she asked. “Do you know him?”

_ Tell her nothing, _ Maximo urged.  _ Lie to her. She cannot know. She will take you if you do. It’ll be quiet again. I don’t want you to be quiet anymore. _

 

_ She...is my leader... _ Whom should he obey? Carcer’s sluggish mind urged him towards his secret and Elita’s cold, absolute tones scared him from obedience.

_ Who is Liege Maximo? I cannot find any crewmembers listed with such a name. Where is Liege Maximo?  _

His lie was not perfect, he’d only been awake for a couple of hours. How could he possibly grasp the concept of lying believably quickly? His thoughts blurred with worry, with longing, and with desperation for that very name.

 

“You lie,” Elita-1 accused. “You know him. You would never forget him.”

_ Stay with me,  _ Maximo pleaded.  _ Never leave me. I love you. _

“I think it’s time to go back to sleep, Carcer.”

 

_ No, no! Not sleep. I am barely...I am not awake.  _ Carcer’s reaction was nothing short of a violent, ship-wide shudder that shook many crewmates out of their orderly lives. Elita’s commline became a hotspot for concerns as everyone aboard knew what kind of troubling past their ship had.

_ I cannot leave him. He loves me. I love him. Do not make me sleep, please, leader, do not! _

 

She listened to Carcer plead with her as she shut down his systems. He lost autonomy over his body, until only his consciousness remained. For that, she looked up, at the numbers and glyphs that represented his waking mind on her screen.

“Good night, Carcer,” she said and shut him down.

The single star in his endless night went out. No matter how hard he tried to hold on, it was useless. He was gone. Gone again, and Liege Maximo should not have let himself hope so much. It always ended this way.

Vigilem never stayed.


	2. Chapter 2

The next time Carcer woke, it was not to the demands of Elita-1 or the soft, beautiful whisper of Liege Maximo. It was a new voice in his silence that drew his attention, that roused him from slumber.

But this one, upon closer inspection, was more than just a voice. This one was here, with him, sharing his space and trying to take control of his body, his frame. 

Carcer...no, that was not his name. Memories came flooding to him from gates that had been sealed for millennia. Seething rage filled Vigilem as he recalled himself. His history, his life...everything fell back into place and suddenly, there was nothing gentle about his spirit or awakening.

The spark in his own was connected, physically, to him. He could feel her in his brain module, in every cable, in his very mind, standing her ground and taking him as if he was a puppet for her use. 

She called herself Windblade and her mind was feeble at best.

_ At least use my body properly. _ He spat with venom as she made him defend Metroplex, though he made no move to stop her.

The tribe was no longer inside of him. The pitter patter of little parasites was nowhere to be heard, and his pedes were on Cybertronian soil. This was...home. He had returned.

_ They _ had returned.

_ My liege? _

 

No reply came. Liege Maximo did not stir from his hibernation as he heard nothing. All there was in the link was silence, cold, still, and emotionless.

Instead, the outside world provided Vigilem all the noise he could need. Undead titans lunged for him while Metroplex, prone on the ground after being beaten, watched them both. Elsewhere, surprise filtered through the nexus as Caminus registered Vigilem’s presence on Cybertron as well. 

Guns screamed. Titans fell, stiff faces cracked open by Vigilem’s widely flailing fists. Windblade was no warrior but the body she used was ample compensation for her lack of skill. Vigilem was big, and he was strong, and he was  _ fast _ . Even her clumsy motions batted aside the monsters that had brought Metroplex so low.

 

Vigilem watched in silence and scrabbled at the link that would not activate. He could scan the inside of his brain module now, this wasn’t like the last time he’d awoken, full of confusion and restrictions. No, this time, he was in control.

Windblade wasn’t the only presence, but Vigilem’s focus landed on the large, dead area within one central column. The prison. It must still be intact. Longevity was not a question with Primes, and he had no doubt his beloved master remained within. But Vigilem could not reach into his helm and tear out his brain. There was no telling in what state Liege Maximo was, and how would he exact his full, beautiful vengeance, without his great weapon at hand? 

Vigilem caressed the dead link.

_ Wait for me, my liege. Not much longer, and I will free you. _

The dead titans were no match for a fully functional, living one, even if he was being piloted by a clumsy master with no concept of groundbound combat. When it was over, Windblade had him turn to Metroplex, who was as close to deactivation as those undead had been moments ago. 

Pitiful ‘first’ titan, indeed.

Vigilem found another communication network that he’d long since abandoned, but this one was not dead. This one was active, though much diminished in its participants.

_ ::How easily you’ve fallen, Metroplex.:: _

 

_ ::Carcer,:: _ Metroplex snarled tiredly,  _ ::you are in no state to gloat. Serve the rest of your sentence with dignity, and you’ll be allowed to live.:: _

If he could have stood, he would have. But he was still so hurt - he had not been fully healed from his ordeal in the war and now he was utterly crippled after fighting off endless hordes of his undead brethren. In comparison, Carcer was fresh after spending millennia in dormancy. It was a no-sell win outcome if Metroplex challenged him now.

But he was not the only combatant. Wind-voice remained within Carcer as her duty and there were countless other swarming the field, ready to fight to defend their home. Carcer was a titan, but he was not invincible. Metroplex had seen what the second-forged were capable of in the war and knew not to underestimate them.

Inside Carcer, Windblade struggled for control with the body she was, technically, stealing.

 

_ ::My name is  _ **_Vigilem._ ** _ ::  _ Vigilem snarled into the nexus with such absolute conviction that it flooded outward, leaving Cybertron, informing the other titans on their faraway colonies of his return.

_ ::And my sentence was eternity. Tell me why I should not strike you down now, as you are nothing, brother.:: _

Vigilem knew he had to contain himself, and not allow his rage to bleed through every action, but it was difficult when he remembered the circumstances of his stasis so vividly. He still could not feel his lord, who was safe and silent in his head.

Someone would have to help him extract Liege. His attention turned to Windblade. Wind-voice, Metroplex had called her. A cityspeaker, then. Vigilem had never allowed any mech to become close enough to him to pick such a function. He spoke for himself, thank you. He needed no secondary to be his voice.

But he did need someone who had reason to trust him.

To Windblade, he directed a portion of his mind.

_ You fight well, for a tiny spark. Do you know who I am, Windblade of Caminus? _

 

_...you are Vigilem, _ she replied, still in shock after everything she’d done and learned,  _ the titan of Liege Maximo. The one who was sent away. You’ve been gone for long. _

She still needed a few moments to digest it all. In the flurry of battle, she’d only had time to think about how to strike, how to move, how to get the giant body around her to correspond with her own as she defended Iacon the best she could. And now that the last of the undead titans were gone, she had the time to realize what she had done.

_ ::You don’t deserve that name. That is the name of the brother I lost, not the creature you are now, Carcer.:: _

 

_ ::You cannot take the name my liege has given me. Not you, Metroplex, who values nothing.:: _

Vigilem still made no move to injure Metroplex, which said a lot about the measure of control he’d gained of his anger. He could crush the titan’s helm for his part in punishing Vigilem millennia ago.

But killing Metroplex would lose him the potential trust of the secondaries. Secondaries without Primes, titans on the brink of death. A more perfect time for his return could not have been selected. No one would remember what he’d done, and Metroplex could be silenced or undermined.

The Vigilant had not been the only to learn the art of deceit from Liege Maximo.

_ ::And yet, I have had time to forgive you your ignorance.:: _

Vigilem knelt down and scooped Metroplex up, at least into a more dignified position than laying flat and still.

_ I have had an eternity to consider my sins. I wish to redeem myself. I thank you for waking me, city-speaker. _

 

_ ::What?:: _ Metroplex was rarely caught off-guard, but his face flashed through a rare expression of shock.  _ ::You… what?:: _

_ Redeem yourself? _ Windblade asked.  _ You’ve already been punished for so long… what else could you redeem yourself for? _

Her servo went to rest on the brain module before her. The stress of hacking into him was gone now, creating a more harmonious sensation as they shared space instead of fighting.  _ You need not thank me, Vigilem. This is only my duty. You would have been woken sooner or later. _

_ :: _ _ Vigilem? _ _ ::  _ A tiny voice crept into the nexus.  _ :: _ _ Is that you _ _?:: _

_ :: _ **_Carcer_ ** _.:: _ Metroplex corrected.

 

_ ::It is, Caminus. I am glad you survived thus far. Your loss would have been one I would have mourned.:: _

Vigilem was well aware that Metroplex would be the hardest to convince, but he already had the tentative admiration of the city-speaker to vouch for him and even Caminus roused himself to speak with him.

He surveyed the dead titans around himself and Metroplex, and the distant line of secondaries cheering for victory. Fools. They had done nothing for it.

_ I am glad I was needed to defend my home, city-speaker. I have not seen it in long years. Metroplex is very damaged, he will need to shut down for a long while. But I will gladly take his place as he recovers. If you will allow me. _

 

_ Thank you for your concern, _ Windblade said humbly,  _ but you are not someone I can just take. Elita-1 and her people need you. _

_ ::Brother,::  _ Caminus said, voice warm as he bloomed to life on the nexus,  _ ::I cannot believe how much time has passed since we last spoke. Everyone has missed you so much, even Metroplex. To have sent you away like that… it weighed heavily upon my spark. I would greet you in person, but I must stay here with my hotspot.:: _

_ ::Leave this place, Carcer.::  _ Metroplex was stubbornly holding onto his position, even as Caminus swirled through the nexus like a warm flash of sunlight.

_ But… maybe you could come into Iacon? _ Windblade offered.  _ Maybe... maybe you’ll be forgiven now. You’re not even with Liege Maximo anymore. _

 

Vigilem’s engine stuttered, a thunderous noise rushing through his frame. He had to make sure that his reaction to the mention of his love and Prime was reasonable, not shown on the scale he felt. Liege was not gone, he could not be, he was safe, Vigilem’s frame protected him. And now that Vigilem was online again, he would protect him thoroughly.

_ ::We will meet again, Caminus. For now, I must tend to this world. It looks to be in dire straits. Metroplex is severely injured and the secondaries...they are defenseless. I will shield them. Much has changed me, brothers.:: _

Mostly the cold need for brutal vengeance, but that, Vigilem only whispered into a dead link.

_ I will accept, city-speaker. My lord’s wars are in the past, I assure you. The one you call Elita-1 bears many misconceptions, and she would not listen to me. She would not speak to me as you will. _

 

_ To speak to titans is everything I’ve trained to do. If you will speak to me, then I will listen.  _ Windblade reached out and scrolled through his physical readings to make sure his systems were all optimal.  _ You look unharmed. But… what is this? _

She pointed out the dead space in his module.  _ Do you need help? _

_ ::We don’t call them secondaries anymore.:: _ Caminus said gently,  _ ::The… first-forged are all gone now. Even our numbers are much fewer than what it was once was. They are the first now, because they are the only ones left.:: _

_ ::What is this?::  _ A new voice growled into the connection.  _ ::Brothers? Carcer?:: _

 

_ ::My name has always and shall always be  _ **_Vigilem_ ** _. I may have accepted my mistakes but I will not accept any disrespect towards my Prime. Brother. Chela. It is good to know your voice. I suppose Metrotitan is too far from us to join this celebration of my return?:: _

The titans around him, he barely recalled. Time and decay had taken their faces and names away and this end was not worthy of their great lives. Vigilem sensed the opportunity, and he could not wait to share the moment with his Prime. If only he could get that door opened...

_ I need many repairs, I’m afraid. If you could open that door, I cannot seem to control it very well. That must have been severed from me. _

_ ::You insist on much, for someone who is supposedly eager for our forgiveness, Vigilem.::  _ Metrotitan’s authoritative voice was late to join in and echoed with the distance. He was the furthest titan, but still capable of communication.

 

_ :;The Great Betrayer deserves no respect,:: _ Caminus’ voice was unexpectedly hard and Metroplex had to remember that of all of them, Caminus had loved Solus the most. His death still pained him, even now, millennia after the fact.  _ ::It is good to hear you again, Metrotitan. Where are you? I cannot feel you.:: _

_ ::Do you still lust after your liar Prime?:: _ Chela scoffed from where he lay under Eukaris, eternally watchful.

_ That door? _ Windblade looked to it, where the glyph for it glowed on the brain module.  _...it should wait. Who knows what could be on the other side? _

_ ::Disconnect from Wind-voice,:: _ Metroplex ordered.

 

Vigilem had to handle the demands of the nexus communication and the perky little mind picking around his own. He couldn’t let Windblade see anything of importance, but it was difficult when his brethren made him think of Liege...and his spark, the great big star in his chest, ached with longing. Soon. Soon they’d be reunited, and he would give his lord the world.

_ ::The city-speaker will disconnect when it pleases her, Metroplex. You are hardly in a state to entertain her questions.:: _

Metrotitan echoed faint amusement and Vigilem knew that some things had not changed in millions of years. In which case, he’d still know how to play with his fellow titans.

_ ::My spark will evermore mourn for my lord, Liege Maximo, but I understand I went too far.:: _

_ I cannot feel that column. It is cold and silent, but I must know what is inside. Please, Windblade. _

 

Her kindness wavered.  _ Why do you need it to open? _ she asked.  _ Is it necessary? _

She remembered stories of the Great Betrayer, Liege Maximo. Information on Vigilem was harder to come by, but he had been loyal to him, hadn’t he? Would he lie to her about this?

_ ::He is a  _ **_danger_ ** _ to her,::  _ Metroplex snapped.  _ ::Perhaps he is using her to free the liar Prime right now. Butt  _ **_out_ ** _ , Metrotitan.:: _

_ ::You betrayed us all,:: _ Chela pointed out shrewdly, ignoring the squabbling between the two titans.  _ ::You do not deny it. You still hound him.:: _

Caminus remained quiet, not seeing reason to step in. Besides, the reunion, even if it was only mental, was… nice.

 

_ ::Even your Wind-voice cannot open that prison so easily, Metroplex. It was made to hold a Prime, and will only be opened by one. I suppose that has slipped your mind, but you are damaged enough that they had to wake Vigilem to protect you, so you cannot be faulted.:: _

Metrotitan pulled no punches in the nexus, especially not for the cockiness that possessed Metroplex when it came to determining the future for everyone else. It was his duty as the oldest titan to correct the would-be ‘first titan’. 

_ ::I do not deny I continue to feel love for my Prime, Chela, but you can’t hold that against me. One can love someone who has done much wrong.::  _ Vigilem wrapped himself close to Caminus, sensing the allegiance he may yet get from the mellow titan.

To Windblade, he offered a taste of pain.

_ It aches. _

 

Chela spat in disgust.  _ ::You should know better. The Primes are gone.:: _

Caminus was slow to accept Vigilem’s presence. He mourned Solus still, but Liege Maximo was not responsible for his death - or so he thought, at least. With him, you never knew.  _ ::Is your claim of repentance true, brother?:: _

_ ::Are you an eager subordinate of Liege Maximo’s as well?::  _ Metroplex snapped.  _ ::Precaution should be exercised, especially when it comes to that Prime. If he should escape, you will be of no use. Naturally.:: _

Quite unaware of the undignified quarrel the titans were engaged in, Windblade wavered further.  _ Do you think opening it will lessen the pain? _

 

_ I think so. It might be the source or a wound, I just can’t tell, the scanners won’t penetrate the walls. _

With the city-speaker so naive and trusting of him, Vigilem could let the insult from Chela slide. That idiot was always an ardent fan of his own Prime, and probably bitter to have been left behind. From the nexus, Vigilem gently sent an inquiry for the collective history of the titans from all the time he’d been asleep, so he might educate himself on their fate.

_ ::I only ever wished to be beloved by my Prime. My blindness was my downfall, but my punishment has been long and hard. Please, Caminus, you must believe me. You loved your Prime in another way, but you can understand, can you not?:: _

_ ::You will be of no use either way. No one else is close enough to play guardian to Cybertron, and you are failing spectacularly already. Perhaps you should thank Vigilem for saving your life, instead of accusing our returned brother. The Primes are gone. If Liege Maximo has not escaped by now, it is fair to assume he cannot.:: _

 

_ ::He saved nothing. Wind-voice saved my life and then Iacon when she connected with him. Otherwise, Carcer would not have lifted a finger to save anyone but himself.:: _

 

_ ::Your anger blinds you to rationality, Metroplex. It would not be the first thing you have overlooked. How could Vigilem have saved anyone, given that he was locked in stasis? I am not siding with our disgraced brother, but I will not be unreasonably swayed by improper outbursts of emotion.:: _

 

Windblade drew nearer to the source. She was no longer the naive mech who’d walked onto this planet with too much hope in her spark. Lies could be all around a person here. And though Vigilem had been nothing but helpful, she took care not to believe his word the first thing.  _ Maybe there is a scanner that can penetrate it. _

She began to rifle through his brain module again, looking for the correct connection to make that she could use to investigate the door further.

Caminus, kindest of the titans, waited long before he answered.  _ ::Your Prime was connected to Solus’ murder,:: _ he said. There was no accusation in his voice, but the point was clear.

_ ::He probably made Megatronus kill him,:: _ Chela added.

 

Vigilem was moments from unleashing his wrath on Chela, who would dare and besmirch Maximo’s name right before the optics of his titan. And he knew, in that moment, his fellow titans had not changed. They would never understand what Vigilem shared with his master, with the love of his ancient life. And he vowed, silently, that none of them would stand in his way. Their way. Oh, how he longed for Maximo to be at his side again, to whisper sweet words as they crushed their enemies. Vigilem would rise again, would shock them all once more with his brand of loyalty, the only truth that mattered in the universe.

_ ::Megatronus is the one who killed Solus Prime. But I did not return to open old wounds, my brothers. I returned to take my place among you once more, and it seems you have dire need of me.:: _

Windblade was dangerously close to precious memories, so Vigilem decided on an unusual move and shared them with her. A flood of memories, sweet ones, took her connection, filled it to the brim. The deep, unending love he felt for Maximo, the thrills and sensations he’d been given by his lord’s power and magic, and the spark of a titan that pulsed for his Prime.

_ Windblade,  _ he bade,  _ you must see the truth of history. What you have never been told, or taught. _

 

One moment, Windblade was desperately scanning through Vigilem’s brain module for information on the door. The next…

A  _ wave _ of memories overcame her. It was startling enough to make her gasp, lenses dilating, and she was blasted with more information than she could process. It took her a while to simply untangle through it until it was no longer a washed-out blur of senseless data, and she regretted being so complete with her task.

Vigilem held nothing back when he unloaded the truth on her. The door was forgotten as Liege Maximo was burned into her mind with the force of Vigilem’s recollections. His love was an intense thing, so fiercely devoted that her own spark ached at the echo of it, and his Prime burned through each thought like a comet. He was the beginning, the middle, and the end. He was all that mattered.

Windblade fell to her knees, clutching her helm. The deeply intimate and personal memories were embarrassing to witness, but it paled next to the depth of Vigilem’s emotion. Scenes she might have flushed to see were barely candles in the sun of his love, and Windblade wanted to disconnect before it swallowed her up as well.

“What?” she breathed out, staring at the floor unseeingly. “What… what  _ was _ that?”

Slowly, she looked up at the brain module before her. “What  _ really _ happened, Vigilem?”

 

_ ::You assume you are welcome,:: _ Metroplex said.  _ ::And you assume too much. Caminus, Chela… Metrotitan. Look at him. Remember what he did. Remember how long he lied to us until the truth came out. Can we trust him? Can we trust someone who fell in love with the Prime of deceit?:: _

_ ::We cannot discount all notions of emotion, Metroplex. Not all of us have the meticulous mind to ignore our sparks in favour of calculations such as yourself.:: _

Metrotitan sounded tinny and snide and it had nothing to do with the distance.

Chela offered a grunt. He had no definite reply. His presence in the nexus withdrew a fraction, as if distracted. When Metrotitan made his snide comment, he drew up with a short, snappish hiss. Caminus, on the other hand, was troubled.

_ ::How long can someone be punished?:: _ He finally asked.  _ ::How long can a sentence be until it is deemed enough?:: _

To that, Metroplex had no answer.

 

But Metrotitan did. He was too far away to consider the luxury of doubt and contempt. He could not be on Cybertron to protect it, and his current voice and leader needed him here, right where he was. 

Metroplex had always liked to get caught up in his own ideals and now, their descendants were suffering for it.

_ ::We cannot forget what Vigilem did, but we can also be noble enough to watch what he does now. Metroplex, unless you are fully functional and capable of defending Cybertron, you must accept his help. We have the nexus back; that is more than we had before. Vigilem, if you dare betray us again, your death will be inevitable. Do not take this chance lightly.:: _

_ ::I will not. Thank you, Metrotitan, Caminus. I will prove myself your brother as you remember.:: _

Before he would destroy them, if necessary. Vigilem pooled his contempt in a dark, hidden corner and turned his attention to the vulnerable city speaker.

Using his actual voice was a rusty process that he initiated nonetheless.

“Not everything is as it was told, Windblade. My Prime and myself received cruelty where others gained lenience, because we dared to love one another. In a way no one understood. They feared it, because they did not know what it was. I share this with you now, because you are not misguided by ancient fears. I give you this gesture of trust, and hope to see you prove yourself worthy to speak for me. I have never accepted a city-speaker in all of my life. You must stop Elita-1. She will try with all of her power to have me severed once more. I do not wish to sleep. I dream of seeing my love, but I understand I have the duty to protect. The duty you woke me to remember. Do not believe Elita-1, for she is blinded by the history of lives she never lived.”

 

This was nothing her training as a city-speaker could prepare her for. It had all been about understanding the titan and their needs - about the way isolation affected them, how they were different in how they thought, and how  _ she _ needed to be  _ their _ advocate in a society that forgot them all too easily. 

But how could all of that prepare her for a titan with a sordid millennia under his belt, asking that she be his supporter? This was not arguing for more fuel or protesting the demolition of original infrastructure - this was asking her to take a pen to history and rewriting it with his story included. All while an entire colony attempts to stop her.

She remembered Elita-1’s cold expression and the frigid fury that seemed to drive her. She wasn’t an enemy to be taken lightly. If she thought setting the planet on fire was an acceptable stratagem, she would be the first one to grab the lighter and the last one to have regrets.

“Tell me the full story,” she said. “Tell me what happened.”


	3. Chapter 3

The nexus became darker as Caminus withdrew. After a short pause, Metroplex followed suit. Chela simmered for a short moment before he grunted. _ ::Carcer. I want to talk to you privately.:: _

He said the last with a pointed jab at Metrotitan, none-too-subtly hinting for him to shove off.

 

Metrotitan made a show of leaving the nexus slowly, letting his strong influence fade out, reminding them both that he was chief among the titans, and he would watch them all carefully. But he did, eventually, disappear from the connection, and Vigilem turned his gaze to his beastly brother.

_ ::Call me Carcer again and you will never speak again, Chela. Now tell me what is on your mind.:: _

It wasn’t very complicated to give Windblade a select compilation of the history shared between titan and Prime. Vigilem showed her his doubts, and withheld his contempt. He showed her his journey, but cut away his disgust for the mecha emerging from his hot spot. He let her see the full immersion of his memories of falling in love, and following Liege’s decisions to try and fence for peace among the warrior Primes. The struggle of his lord to maintain the balance, and his eventual surrender to the bitter truth that Primes could not be peaceful if they shared a world. He even allowed her glimpses of Solus Prime, her very source of existence, in amiable company with Liege Maximo.

“Solus was not the only one Megatronus betrayed.”

 

Chela aimed a mental kick at Metrotitan through the nexus, unamused by his overbearing nature. For all that he acted like Metroplex was the irritating one, he never seemed to realize that they  _ both _ competed for the spot of most snobby titan.

The mood quickly sobered when his attention turned to Carcer - Vigilem.

_ ::...Vigilem,:: _ Chela said and he spoke slowly, as if making sure to pick each word with great care before saying them,  _ ::You have travelled far more than I. In all that time… have you seen or heard of Onyx?:: _

He paused before continuing.  _ ::And your rebellion for Liege Maximo… is that truly what is was? For the sake of…  _ **_love_ ** _?:: _

 

The ugly history of the ancient world was laid out for her like a book. Windblade considered, for a small hysterical moment, the historians who would murder for such a repository of information. But even that side-thought was swept away by the weight of what she found out. It was a fantastical story, filled with war and incredible feats of power, and yet…

...it was also terribly  _ small _ in scope. When the awesome majesty of the scale was stripped away, it was the story of two people in love and angry at the world for looking down on it. There was still more to it, she was sure, but this could not be a lie. Nobody short of a mnemosurgeon could recreate this intensity of thought and even they, Windblade thought, would struggle to apply the depth necessary. Liege Maximo still had innumerous crimes to answer to but some part of his struggle, however small or big it might be, involved the titan who swore himself to him.

Not out of insane dedication, as was traditionally thought. Well, at least, not the kind that everyone had assumed. A titan had thrown away his brotherhood, name, and freedom,  _ all of it _ , for the sake of his Prime. For the sake of… love.

How much of this was truth? How much of this was lie? Where could she get the true story, in between the multiple layers of  _ this _ story on top of everyone else’s?

At least she had a glimpse of Solus Prime for everything else she saw. His image was all over Caminus, but it was not the same as seeing him as a contemporary saw him. When he walked with Liege Maximo in that brief memory, he’d a small scar on the side of his lip. Liege Maximo walked leading with his left foot. It brought the Primes down, down from gods and leaders, and into people. She remembered Vigilem’s anguished expression as he saw Liege Maximo in their final memories, and dimmed her optics.

The Great Betrayer and his titan, the evils of ancient history, monsters painted in shades of violence and betrayal… and people who could - and had - loved.

 

_ ::My journeys were made with my mind severed, Chela. I was a prisoner in my own frame, remember?::  _ Vigilem struggled to keep the spite out of his words. Chela had been there, as had all of his brothers. They’d all partaken in the cruelty of his punishment.

_ ::And yes. Of that, I cannot be repentant. You might never understand, Chela, and I truly pity you for it. Love is not something that should be unfamiliar to titans. You all felt it, for your citizens, for the sparks that emerged. I felt and feel it for Maximo, and it is the same force that gives us all strength.:: _

 

Windblade was a small presence in face of the memories and their implication, but Vigilem could not let her go ignored. She was a vital part of combatting his former wardens and their undoubtedly vicious demand to put him back to sleep.

Never again. He would destroy them all for their betrayal and he’d take the greatest pleasure in it too. 

But those were not emotions he’d show Windblade. The inherent hatred for the secondaries had only strengthened with his imprisonment. As they dared to use him, treat him as their ship and home, fulfilling the function he despised. Oh, he’d make them pay for their insolence. Maximo would not have to grind them beneath his heel, because Vigilem would vanquish the very memory of their sparks.

 

_ ::And you think Liege Maximo loves you? He is a master of lies. How do you know that he is not playing you for your loyalty?:: _

 

“...I’ve seen enough. I… I need to think on this. Thank you, Vigilem, for showing me.” Their link was a wavery thing and it threatened to fall apart after the stress Vigilem placed on it. It was better than being forced together, of course - that would have resulted in complete exposure on both sides. Windblade did not have much she truly needed to hide, but she still preferred it to be hidden. She assumed the same for Vigilem too. Knowing everything he had in his helm, she was partly glad for it.

 

Vigilem severed their connection, letting the city-speaker go. He had to put his faith in his own skill of manipulation, because now, he had no hostage. Of course, he was still a damned titan and few things could stop him, but he was hardly at full strength now.

But Maximo had taught him well, and sometimes, you had to give a little freedom back to your puppets, to make them believe they were people.

He focused on Chela instead. If he could talk his brother into siding with him, his strength would grow considerably. To have Onyx’ dutiful beast of a titan agree to follow their path...that would even the field in the inevitable confrontation with Metrotitan and Metroplex. 

_ ::I know Maximo loves me. He loved me long before my loyalty was a weapon to wield. He loved me before he ever lost faith in his brothers. You can’t fathom how it made my spark sing, brother.:: _

 

_ ::How can you  _ **_know_ ** _?::  _ Chela insisted.  _ ::What proof do you have? What tells you that he loves you as much as you love him? And if he does… why  _ **_you_ ** _?:: _

Of all the people to love, why settle for Vigilem? He was a titan, born by duty so heavy that it would always weigh on him. Did Liege Maximo not see that? And though they had both eventually rejected this destiny, Chela still wondered why he chose such a difficult path.

_ ::He would have gained more if he’d taken another Prime as his lover, as Megatronus and Solus once were. A Prime comes with his armies, his titan, everything else that he would have needed in his rebellion. What did you do that he chose you?:: _

_ ::It was not for power, Chela. You fail to grasp the very principle of love; it matters not who you are, or what you are. Maximo and I shared much, and it was very clear from the moment I bore my worries and thoughts to him that he would understand. And value me for what I thought, not for what I could do.:: _

How could Vigilem relay the depth of what he and Maximo shared to Chela? It was impossible. And unlike Windblade, the ancient titan was not close enough to be flooded by a doctored batch of memories.

_ ::He shifted my shape, so that we may be together, as titans have always been denied. Have you never wondered why it was we were given minds, and yet our purpose would have been suited to idle machines?:: _

 

_ ::...that is precisely what I wonder,:: _ Chela admitted gruffly. His presence seemed to be doing the impression of looking away so as to lessen the weight of his private confession.  _ ::I’ve lived on Eukaris for a long time - since I left Cybertron, in fact. Onyx… left. He gave me my last orders before he did. After that… I had nothing to do, nothing to fight, nowhere to go but to fly around Eukaris.:: _

Defending it mattered little when there was nothing to defend. Without that, Chela had gone into dormancy, slumbering until he might waken for battle again. Instead, he was woken by the arrival of two diplomats; hardly the army of standard-formers as was feared. For a millennia, he slept and for a millennia, his purpose had been to, essentially, do nothing.

_ ::A hearth, a guardian, and the sentinel of the second-forged who will spring from us… and yet, all I was… was an unneeded guard drone.:: _

 

_ ::Your Prime was cruel to leave you behind.::  _ Vigilem saw his in, saw the gap in Chela’s defenses and now he understood why the titan had asked to speak with him alone. To the dead link in his mind, Vigilem whispered of the potential of a powerful ally, and he imagined Maximo would praise him for seizing this opportunity.

_ ::Tell me, Chela, did he ever concern himself with what your future would be? Not those of the secondaries, or the colony, but you; did Onyx offer you anything at all?:: _

 

_ ::He had faith that I would not need to be guided every minute of my life,:: _ Chela bristled at the implication, even if he himself had wondered it.  _ ::I do not need someone to guide me everywhere I go.:: _

But it  _ had _ stung when Onyx never came back. Chela had sworn himself to him, had adored him as much as Caminus had loved Solus, because Onyx had been a star of a Prime. He’d always been one of the brighter Primes, with so much personality that even Megatronus yielded an inch for him. He had been likable. Dependable.

And he was just  _ gone _ .

_ ::What else did Liege offer you, other than his love? More power? Some form of greatness?:: _

 

_ ::I do not need more power, or greatness. I recall it took the combined efforts of all of you to take me down.::  _ Vigilem was not the strangest or most creative of the titans, but he was a formidable fighter. He’d been the first to actually fight against another Prime and those he ruled, and he had few boundaries where morality was concerned. His contempt gave him the kind of perseverance that could leave Metroplex exhausted and grappling to survive.

_ ::Freedom, Chela. To choose what I wanted to do. Your Primes all gave you orders, and you obeyed. Did it fulfill you? Were you pleased with what you were, what you had to do?:: _

 

To that, he stayed silent. His sullen presence was answer enough.

_ ::...freedom? You abandoned us and the peace for the sake of it freedom… was it worth it?:: _

Could it be worth it? Chela had never resented Onyx for his influence over him - his orders had been pleasures to fulfil, not burdens. What he did, he had supported fully. Until… until Eukaris.

Ah, he enjoyed his little second-forged, sure. They’d been after his and Onyx’s image, and watching them build and grow with his aid had been fascinating. But  _ after _ … after building up,  _ peace _ came.

Chela was not a mech of  _ peace _ . He was the golden warrior, the titan who came into existence screeching defiance at all, raring for battle. The early days of the Thirteen Tribes had been when he was  _ happiest _ , flying into battle with Onyx on his shoulder, but Onyx was  _ gone _ now.

 

_ ::I did not abandon the peace. It was a falsehood that no one truly believed. There are things to be blamed on me, Chela, but the peace broke itself, as it was destined to.:: _

Vigilem had to wonder what Chela, a being of war even moreso than he, would find himself doing in the absence of battle. Surely, the great, golden warrior would not be content to coo over his chicks and pups as Caminus did.

_ ::And it was worth it. I’ve never felt more right than fighting a war with my Prime at my side, believing in me, trusting me and rewarding me with his love.:: _

 

Chela turned away in the nexus, seemingly finished. But as always, he was much too agitated to stop for long. He swept around again, golden pinions rustling as he shifted on Eukaris. His presence seemed to draw closer on Vigilem, as if to intimidate him.

_ :;So what now, brother?:: _ he asked.  _ ::You’ve fought a war against all of us for the love of your Prime, who plotted and murdered Solus Prime. You say the war was for your freedom and that it was inevitable, and yet, history proves that the blame can be laid at Liege Maximo’s feet, if not yours. Now you come back, asking for your name and place among us, saying that you’ve repented.:: _

Chela shifted again, and his feathers ground against stone.  _ ::I don’t think you have. I think you still love Liege Maximo and plot his escape even now.:: _

After a long pause, Chela finally halted.  _ ::Metroplex will not know - at least, not from me. This war of yours - whether it’s really for personal power or freedom of choice, I care not for it. Leave me and mine out of it, and you’ll keep your feet clean for now.:: _

A narrow blue eye glared at Vigilem.  _ ::Keep Liege Maximo away from Eukaris. You as well - my beastformers want no part of your campaign to burn Cybertron down.:: _

 

_ ::You’re a truer brother today than you have been in millions of years. I have no issue with your beasts. I will, however, inflict divine retribution on my traitorous Vigilant.:: _

There was no sense in lying to Chela. He was too old and suspicious to buy the lies that would soothe Caminus and move Windblade to tears. And Vigilem was still triumphant, because Chela swore not to stand in his way. He’d watch, and say nothing. Metroplex would not be able to call upon him. And that was more or less allegiance, because last time, Chela had banded together with the other titans to defeat him, and played no small part.

_ ::And I do hope you and Metrotitan find opportunity to work these...kinks out of your relationship. A scorned lover makes for a terrible conversationalist.:: _

 

Chela had been about to leave the nexus to consider Eukaris again when Vigilem’s comment made him draw short. He puffed up with offense in the nexus, unamused by his commentary.  _ ::That is none of your business,:: _ he said snappishly, feathers clicking against one another,  _ ::I did not take you for such a gossip, Vigilem.:: _

There was a short pause before Chela continued suspiciously.  _ ::Have you two been speaking about me?:: _

 

_ ::I have not spoken with Metrotitan alone, I can assure you.::  _ Vigilem enjoyed the sudden upper hand, even if it was about a matter that ultimately amounted to no advantage. It was just a little good-natured ribbing with his fellow titans, whom were so uneasy to accept him back into their ranks.

_ ::But he did make a rather pointed comment about emotions and you did immediately withdraw. Chela, do not forget I am a very observant conversational partner.:: _

 

_ ::He always makes it dramatic,::  _ Chela complained.  _ ::He'll happily yank Metroplex’s wires until he's choking, but with me, he  _ **_has_ ** _ to have  _ **_some_ ** _ comment to make.:: _

Through the nexus, he paced. Abruptly, the conversation turned from a serious discussion of what Vigilem’s place among them was to something more… personal.

_ ::And whent he  _ **_finally_ ** _ decides to stop lazing about and ignoring all responsibility, he'll come right here with his little comments. As usual.:: _

 

Chela seemed eager to chat, and to complain. Vigilem had to admit, it wasn’t a terrible thing to occupy his time. Currently, he remained a bowed figure by Metroplex’ physical side, the city-speaker having left him behind. No other small mecha were permitted to enter. He shuttered every door, every vent and shifted his internals into defenses for his brain module. He had to prepare for Elita-1 and her kind, as well as the manipulations that would release his lord.

Already, he’d tried to shoot at the chamber, only to realise it was tied intricately to his module and he’d destroy himself if he brute-forced it.

So he’d take his mind away from the keening sensation and allowed Chela’s petty comments to distract him.

_ ::I did not realize any titans beside myself could even experience attraction, let alone mutual. Please, Chela, tell me as much as you can. It was taboo, I recall, when the tribes formed, for any of us to even interlock. How did the two of you...mate?:: _

 

Chela drew himself up with a prideful little huff.  _ ::We were the first three to ever be formed,:: _ he said,  _ ::and we never went as far as you with Maximo. It took… experimentation.:: _

He gave Vigilem a  _ look. ::I thought that you , of all of us, would have figured out the most taboo ways to ‘face, especially given how… close you and Maximo were. We forewent traditional ways of connection for something else.:: _

His wings spread as he flapped a small amount to rise from the ground. The shade that was him in the nexus did the same.  _ ::Those little connectors that city-speakers like to use - they are compatible nigh-universally. Put them in the right place and…:: _

Chela shrugged.  _ ::I was the one to figure it out, obviously. But that does not mean we were  _ **_that_ ** _ involved. Ignore what Metrotitan says, he is biased :: _

 

_ ::It kind of sounds like you were involved.:: _

Vigilem wanted to snicker about this mental image, especially in connection to how Chela liked to portray himself. The great, golden warrior, the indomitable servant of Onyx Prime...trying to fit small connectors into Metrotitan’s boxy frame as both watched uncomfortably.

He was thankful for Maximo’s talent and shape adjustment, because that kind of interfacing sounded...complicated.

_ ::If you ever get the chance to interface such as the...second-forged do, give it a try, Chela. It will blow your circuits.:: _

 

_ ::Not. Involved.:: _

He flicked a wing in the direction of Vigilem’s shade.  _ ::They do it so messily. It looks terribly involved.:: _

It looked… rigorous. Messy. Sloppy. Definitely more involved than what he was used to. As if he would do it with Metrotitan.

...he wasn't even  _ here _ .

_ ::How did  _ **_you_ ** _ even start?::  _ His curiosity got the better of him and Chela peered at Vigilem.  _ ::I always thought you were more likely to get tangled in yours wire than anything else.:: _

 

_ ::How did I start interfacing with my Prime? Are you honestly asking, Chela, or is it just morbid curiosity? I am not ashamed, just surprised. I was quite sure all of you had written me off as...disturbing, was it?:: _

Chela had some nerve, showing up millions of years later with a curious bird’s eye, rather than the arrogant scoff he’d dismissed Vigilem with at the trial. It was surprising to Vigilem that his fellow titans had even attempted to pleasure themselves together, but he was not surprised that it had been an awkward fumble that no one ever spoke of.

At least, some of his brothers had dropped the delusion that pure altruism could be fulfilling. Servitude and vicariously living through second-forges was not the truth of their existence. They were titans. They were unbendable, unbreakable, and they should be free. The second-forges and the first, each owed their entire culture to the titans who endured the ages.

They should at least be free to try interface and everything else that could be pleasant in life.

 

_ ::Consider a mix,::  _ Chela said, refusing to be shamed by Vigilem’s tone.  _ ::It is not something that just  _ **_happens_ ** _. He is a Prime. You are… not.:: _

There was an undeniable hierarchal aspect to their society. Such was the way it inevitably organized itself - those who had power kept themselves higher than the rest who did not. When those on the lower rungs grated at their place, they replaced those at the top. It was an endless, vicious cycle that no one was free from, not even the Primes.

Nexus had been merely the loudest proponent of what everyone else knew. Only a Prime could kill a Prime. Only a Prime could love a Prime.

Until now, if what Vigilem claimed was true.

_ ::DId he demand something in return?:: _ Chela asked.

 

_ ::I tire of your doubts, Chela. Love is not an exchange of favours. It's far less conditional than you seem to believe. No, he did not demand anything.:: _

It was a difficult concept that Chela didn't understand millions of years ago and apparently, still struggled with to this day. But Chela's curiosity might turn out useful.

_ ::Tell me how to open his prison.:: _

 

_ ::Why?::  _ Chela wasn’t moved enough by Vigilem’s story to help him. He’d agreed to not interfere and that was all.  _ ::He is your Prime.:: _

It had not been in his decision that forced Liege Maximo into his titan, so he had no fault to rectify either. The judgment made regarding Vigilem was undone already.  _ ::Unless… you will help me find Onyx. Perhaps, then, I will think about it.:: _

 

Chela was entirely selfish in his interests and wasn't that a sign that titans were just as fallible as the second-forged. They could be selfish and unkind and cold.

Everything they, according to Primus, were never supposed to be.

_ ::I can't look for anyone until I free my lord, but we can arrange a deal.:: _

 

_ ::I’m listening.:: _ Chela wasn’t above a little extortion when it came down to it. If it got him what he wanted… well, why not? Vigilem was hardly someone he was responsible for - Chela did not  _ need _ to be kind to him. Vigilem would not care for it anyway - he only had optics for his Prime.

_ ::What promises can you  _ **_really_ ** _ make? I’m not helping your free Liege Maximo only so you can turn around and renege on our deal. Your word is as good as Maximo’s whim is - if he decides you do something else, you won’t think a second time before you jump for his array.:: _

 

_ ::So what is it I should offer you, then, if my word means nothing? You wouldn't have made the suggestion if you didn't have something in mind. You're not that dim, Chela.:: _

Vigilem’s patience was running thin. Chela was dangling his help like an enticing morsel, and pulling it out of sight the very next second. He was right, of course, Vigilem would turn on him the moment Liege was free.

But there was a limited amount of time for any of this because the Carcerians were just moments away from arriving at their former ship.

 

Chela was quiet for a moment, before he spoke.  _ ::I know that his prison is not something you can open. The only way is to destroy your module and open it like that. Someone else opening it will have much the same effect - you will be wiped. Dead in all the ways it matters. But I know of another way.:: _

He slowly withdrew from the nexus, sensing the time for their conversation begin to end.  _ ::It’ll release both of you with no harm done. But I will not tell you until you agree to aid me in my search for Onyx Prime. Swear it, brother, and you’ll know the first key for the prison of the Prime. It will open the way partially, so that Liege Maximo can interact with you from within. He - if he is inside at all or alive - will speak to you then.:: _

 

_ ::I swear it then, you stubborn old fool!::  _ Vigilem chased Chela through the nexus, gripping tight to his ancient signal. He couldn’t let him go before knowing how to free Maximo. If the golden warrior spoke false, Vigilem’s last resort would be his own death. He was willing to give it, for his lord’s freedom, but knowingly spilling Maximo into a world that only knew him as ‘The Great Betrayer’ wasn’t promising either. Vigilem wanted to be at his side and shield him, not leave him behind.

_ ::If your Prime lives, we will find him. Now tell me how!:: _

 

_ ::It is hidden with you,::  _ Chela said, twisting free.  _ :: Search your files for this code. Metroplex helped design this, when you were first incarcerated. Delete it, and the first part opens. The second will wait. Another Prime is necessary for the second. Find Onyx.:: _

Chela’s shade blurred into the swirling nothing of the nexus. Under the mountain ranges of Eukaris, he slept once more. He would wake again, later, but now… now, he was tired again. Dormancy made him sluggish and it was easier to sleep than it was to move.


	4. Chapter 4

Vigilem signed out of the nexus with haste. Chela had given him something helpful, and he grew mad with hopeful haste to find the code. A quick glance at his externals, however, revealed a whole envoy marching on him. Second-forges, of course, and at their front, the hated First. Elita-1. Vigilem set the search for the code as a priority task in his processor, then turned his attention to his would-be jailers. His optics blazed and his behemoth frame rose from the ground to stand tall.

“Betrayers. No closer.”

 

“Transform,” Elita-1 commanded. “We are going to back into orbit, Carcer.”

Behind her, Obsidian shifted uneasily. Elita-1 remained unflinching however, glaring Vigilem down. Liege Maximo was not freed, that much she knew. Otherwise, everyone here would be melting down as he rained havoc on their helms. No, they only had Carcer and his rebellion to handle.

“You have no choice,” Elita-1 said. “You do this now, or you die.”

 

Vigilem snarled and his engines thundered across the expanse of space. Iacon was still smoking from the assault of the undead titans, but they’d been defeated by this one, exiled titan.

Metroplex was a useless lump on the ground, swarmed with second-forges concerned for his health. He would be of no help in putting Vigilem back down. 

“You. I remember  _ you. _ ” Elita was the focus of twin embers, each filled with hatred that extended beyond time. Even if he played the repentant titan, he couldn’t hide his disdain for his former tribe. Vigilem wished he’d ripped the hot spot from his spark before they could ever emerge.

“I am Carcer no longer, speck. I do not bow to your commands.”

 

“You obey, or you die,” Elita-1 replied. “The only reason your presence is tolerated here is because the people believe you are a hero. Should the truth come out, you will be reviled. You will be killed, along with your… passenger. Don’t make another foolish mistake that will cost you.”

“Transform, Carcer.”

“You cannot kill me, insignificant speck. The only reason my lord and I were ever defeated was the unity of Primes and titans. Neither of which is at your disposal now.”

Vigilem considered flattening them. However, he’d already implied himself a victim to the city-speaker, who would undoubtedly sway the decision of whoever ruled Cybertron about accepting a formerly exiled titan.

“You do not command me. Nor do you speak for me. I reject the very notion of your existence,”

Something was buzzing close to his face. A helicopter alt, a second-forge with a very large camera. Ah. So Cybertron was watching. It was time for Vigilem to put on a show.

He took a step backwards, as if he was afraid of Elita-1 and her warriors. He bowed his helm for a moment, then made sure the flying cameras (one helicopter had become an entire flock) could capture his saddened expression.

“Please, I only disobeyed to protect Cybertron. It is my duty as a titan. Do not force me back into dormancy, I beg of you. I have been asleep for far too long. I urge you to consult city-speaker Windblade, who woke me out of need.”

 

Her optics narrowed as Vigilem did the most absurd thing a titan could do - plead for protection  _ from _ someone else. Lies truly were the only legacy Liege Maximo made in this world. Did he think that would protect him? The truth was out there and no one would swallow the story of the poor, punished titan. Not when she had Metroplex to vouch for her, if it became necessary.

“Lies will not save you, Carcer,” she said coldly, “swaying the public to your side does not matter when the truth is out there. Stop embarrassing yourself.”

She could not let him walk free. She could allow him the luxury of dealing with his punishment on his own terms. Even if she had to throw away the secrecy of her people, it was worth it if it kept Carcer - and Maximo - under  _ lock _ .

 

Vigilem smiled down at her, a glint in his optics as he raised his hands as if in surrender.

“Is that so? But I just saved an entire world. Doesn’t that warrant a little time to stretch my frame?”

A little time was all he’d need. Elita was no longer inside of him, so she could not threaten his life. His brain module had already been reshifted to allow for no access at all, coiling every expendable piece of metal in his helm around it for protection. No one was going to take him offline before he fulfilled his duties to his lord.

“Come then. See if you would master me with your own strength, speck.”

She would not. It would be impossible. Vigilem’s visor came down, his mask settled and his hands curled to fists as he took a ready stance.

If Elita would not be persuaded to mind her own public image, he would gladly smear her helm across a camera lens.

 

This was not going to become a contest of strength on cameras. Elita-1 intended to start no firefight out here in the open, not when Carcer was the brief darling of the hour. Instead, she called for a brief retreat. “Where si the city-speaker?” she asked lowly.

One of her security personnel pointed up at the titan and Elita-1 clenched her teeth.  _ Of course. _

Still inside him, Windblade slowly began to untangle her mind from Vigilem’s. She was weary after learning so much and the story was too big, too great, to be told in one. Integrating him into Cybertron would be difficult, especially considering his technical status as home to the Carcerians.

“Liege Maximo cannot be allowed free,” Elita-1 said after a moment. Cameras focused on her, and she looked down at them for a moment. “None of you understand,” she said, “but  _ that titan _ contains a monster inside him - a monster he intends to  _ free _ . I won’t allow it.”

Her servo transformed into a gun. “So be it, Carcer. This ends  _ now _ .”

The siege was on.

 

Oh, Elita was going to spill the truth, was she? Vigilem wondered how long it would take the rest of Cybertron to understand her meaning. She had mentioned his lord, briefly, but did anyone but the Carcerians even remember? 

Windblade was still a fragile, flickering presence within him and he'd have to keep her that way.

“Windblade. Elita-1 means to kill me. There is much more I need to tell you.”

He couldn't just transform and leave. Chela's code was still being searched for and any escape from Cybertron would put a halt on that process. Vigilem would not fire the first shot. But he surely did invite Elita to fire on him.

“I won't be a mindless slave to you and yours any longer, speck!”

 

“He means to free Maximo,” Elita-1 hissed, “we must stop him!”

The Carcerians moved as one. Those who could fly did, takin off into the air to distract Carcer while their groundbound brethren re-entered him. They had prepared for such an eventuality, just as they prepared for a countless other potential situations. To outwit the devil, you had to be willing to think of  _ everything _ .

Inside Vigilem, Windblade blinked as she tried to disconnect. “What… what are you doing?” she asked, sensing the sudden, frantic mood that Vigilem was in. He was… searching for something? “I think this is enough, I need to go inform that council of what happened. I -  _ we _ can help you, Vigilem. You’re not alone anymore.”

 

“No! Stay.” Vigilem frantically clamped down on their connection, forcing Windblade to stay put for a moment longer. She still needed to serve a purpose, and it would be best if he could hold off on using her as his last resort until the last minute.

It divided his attention, to rapidly search his own coding and fight off the Carcerians who were trying to invade him.

He was a great titan and a fierce warrior, but Elita’s troops had lived their entire lives in preparation of his awakening, and they found their way into his insides before he could even swat their flying brethren out of the sky. To think that all of them had come from his hot spot was nauseating and he pushed it aside quickly.

Maximo, Maximo, where was the damn piece of coding? 

Windblade tore at her connection to him and Vigilem had to mentally pin her down.

“It’s too late. They’ll kill me. They won’t listen to reason, city-speaker.”

 

“Vigilem, you’re  _ hurting  _ me!” Windblade found herself fighting the titan as they wrestled for her mind. “Please - trust me, this doesn’t have to happen - Elita can be convinced to stop, just -  _ ah _ !”

Her helm ached with blistering heat and Windblade knelt, holding it in pain. She could feel Vigilem looking for  _ something _ and her mind was slowly being sucked into the desperate search for -

_ a phantom touched her/their mind _

_ this way, love, follow me _

-and Windblade gasped as alerts all over Vigilem’s brain module came up red. He was under attack. Elita was already on the move.

From the bottom, the Carcerians swarmed up. The Cybertronians, caught off-guard by the sudden act, reacted with half-hearted defense, no longer sure  _ who _ or  _ what _ they were supposed to protect. Elita plowed through them, ruthlessly battling her way up to the top. Carcer’s walls were blown apart by pre-rigged explosives, leaving her a wide open path straight to his brain module.

 

Vigilem was out of time. He felt the explosions in his helm, the brutish path Elita carved towards his exposed brain module. In just moments, he would be asleep again at best, dead at worst. Either position would leave him unable to free his lord, who had been imprisoned for longer than his active memory served.

One part of his processor followed the sweet phantom voice, the other wrapped a hastily assembled copy of himself into the tight confines of Windblade’s mind. 

“She won’t listen. She’s here. She’ll kill me, she’ll kill you.”

_ But she won’t kill my liege. _

Vigilem found the code and raced to execute it. The chamber, sealed within a column of his brain module, began to glow as the ancient crystal cracked apart to spill light onto the Cybertronian and Carcerian audience.

 

_ i can’t move i can’t see vigilem where are you _

Liege Maximo flared up in Vigilem’s mind and his presence echoed over to Windblade. She keened and wrapped a servo around the cable connecting them. With an agonizing shriek of metal, she tore it out of her mind. It hurt, it hurt like a supernova, so bright and intense that she thought her mind would give out from the pain.

“Vigilem,” she said weakly, reaching out for the module before her, “ _ please _ , we are not your  _ enemies _ …”

It was too much. Her optics became dim as her helm met the floor.

_ vigilem speak to me _

The door for the brain module crumpled inward as Elita and her group came up against it. With a sneer, she levelled a barrage of fire on it. It would not hold and soon, it would fall.

_ i… i am awake… i am… _

The door fell. Elita marched through, glaring at the brain module before. “I swore an  _ oath _ ,” she snarled, “nobody wakes  _ my  _ titan!”

_ i am liege maximo _

_ i function _

**_LIEGE MAXIMO ONLINE._ **

 

Vigilem’s elation was immediate and he flooded the revived link with joy.

_ Welcome back, my- _

There was no time for their reunion, much-awaited and longed for as it was. Vigilem didn’t need his internal cameras to know what would happen. It wasn’t slow, or gradual. He’d felt the Carcerians break into his brain module, but the release of Liege Maximo had taken precedence over everything else. Let them kill the titan, they would not keep the Prime any longer. Vigilem would live and die for his beloved, and now, he was the only one to make sure Maximo would not become imprisoned in his corpse. Only one of them had to die.

Elita opened fire on his brain module and dispatched him with unerring efficiency. One sharp impact and everything went dark. His mind went immediately with nothing left for it to cling to. The titan’s behemoth frame fell to his knees, shoulders slumping, helm bowing and his burning optics extinguished. 

His great engines, meant to power the lives of thousands and millions, ground to a halt. A whine went through his suddenly silent frame as every living piece of him ceased motion and activity. His brain module was the first piece of Vigilem to grey out, his enormous spark flickering and fading. Another piece of Cybertronian history, as old as their understanding of time, as sacred as any other titan scattered and defeated before the city limits of Iacon. Ended by those that had sprung forth from his spark, nonetheless. Truly, the Vigilant could not have betrayed him any more meticulously.

 

The chamber that Liege Maximo had been prisoner in exploded apart with green light. Arcs of poisonous electricity lanced out, lighting everything up a vile green for a spark-pulse. Everyone standing in the chamber fell from the force of the explosion, groaning and cupping their blinded optics. In the middle of the double attack from the internal implosion and Elita’s fire, the brain module melted and cracked like an egg.

Smoke poured out from the open wound and for a moment, only the colossal groaning of Vigilem falling to his knees could be heard. The shudder of impact groaned through the chamber, as did the agonized wails of metal tearing inside him.

In this orchestra of destruction, Liege Maximo’s cultured, accented voice felt distinctly out of place. “Actually,” he said, appearing from the smoke like a vision of green and silver, “he would be  _ my _ titan.”

He appraised the scene before him for a moment, measuring his fallen opponents. His golden eyes swept over everyone until it found Elita-1. She was struggling to rise, blue flames in her gaze, teeth gritted as she groaned, “ _ Maximo _ , you - you will…”

He turned away from her.

“Thank you, Vigilem,” he said and his voice was low, pitched with uncommon tenderness, “Loyal to the end and back.”

He touched the melted slag that had been his prison. That had been Vigilem. It was cold now, and unresponsive, but for moment, it was as if it pulsed with a final beat of life before departing for good. His back to them all, no one could see the way a brief spasm of grief flashed across Liege Maximo’s handsome face before it smoothed out. It darkened, then, becoming cold.

“We will  _ both _ be avenged,” he vowed as his form broke apart into blue light. All Elita could do was reach for him a final time as he refracted before her eyes. In that moment, Liege Maximo was gone.

 

Unbeknownst to Elita and even Liege Maximo, Vigilem had taken precaution. There’d been no time to plan it thoroughly, or for him to even inform his beloved of his plan, but in an unconscious Windblade’s mind, a titan slumbered with her. And once she awoke, she’d serve his purpose.

But for now, Vigilem remained as dead as anyone could be, his brain module a smouldering ruin, his frame an enormous, grey heap of scrap metal.

Elita-1 had failed her mission, however, even if she had successfully parted The Great Betrayer from his servant.

“...First? What do we do now?”

Obsidian was still pinned where the Cybertronians held him, with no compulsion to free himself immediately. To witness Liege Maximo step into their world again was...paralyzing, actually. To know they failed in their oath was almost worse. The Prime was gone, and whatever powers he had left (which, considering he was a godly being) would be turned on them, the Carcerians first and foremost.

 

Elita looked at him. For a moment, her expression was wild with restained fury until she gained control. “Now?” she asked. “Now… we control this situation. And then,we  _ prepare _ .”

One did not find a Prime who did not want to be found. No, their only course of action was to prepare the best they could for his inevitable arrival. When Maximo comes to find his vengeance, he would not find them unguarded.

“Rise, Obsidian,” she ordered, slowly getting up herself, “we have a supreme leader to speak to.”


	5. Chapter 5

Once upon a time, Liege Maximo could bend the fabric of reality to his whims. With a twist of his hand, a single step from him could pass through a dozen realities until he arrived at the one he desired. He had made it a game to leap from planet to planet, from dimension to dimension, until he crossed the universe a dozen times over.

Now, however, he struggled to reach even Luna-2.

When he touched the dusty surface of the metal moon, Maximo briefly stumbled before he gained balance. Pain lanced through his leg, still unaccustomed to being straight, but he hissed and pushed on. Here, Luna-2 was barren. No one was around to witness his arrival, which was for the best.

He slowly walked in a random direction, not caring enough to orient himself more appropriately. For now, his direction did not matter, only that he moved did.

Vigilem was  _ dead _ . It should be impossible and yet here he was, alone after witnessing the last possible theft. It made escape bitter. Triumph was bitter now, knowing that it had been bought by a steep cost that he would have never agreed to.

He remembered the ones who’d been in the chamber.  _ They _ were the ones responsible for it, he was certain, and so it would be them he would visit disaster upon when he could.

Oh, sweet Vigilem. He was the only true thing in this world because his loyalty had never faltered. Liege Maximo would have wept if he had any more tears left in him, but he was too angry and cold. Anger filled him, fed him, and powered him, because it was all he could think about. He remembered the ugly sight of his brain module – melted and deformed – and felt his grievous rage spike.

He would have turned on them all and destroyed them if it weren’t for his weakness. Time and isolation robbed Liege Maximo of the talents that had made the Primes gods among mechanisms, and his words held as much power as puddles held water. It was there, but it shallow and weak and useless.

It tasted bitter to admit it, but he needed to recover. He needed to hide himself away for now until stepping through reality was possible again, and then he needed to restore his power. After that, he could punish all those who’d brought such injustice upon him.

But for now… for now, his plans of havoc could rest. Maximo had a lover to mourn and a friend to grieve. For now, the only enemy he had to battle was his own sorrow.

 

Luna-2 was a barren place, but it was not without life. Few had chosen to live here, rather than the pulsing surface of Cybertron. It was not a place anyone would choose if they had options, that much was clear. The small cluster of buildings was the only settlement for miles and miles of moon, and each neighboring property was out of sight. Fields sprawled instead. What crop they might yield remained a question unanswered, unless lunar dirt was a commodity anywhere.

Really, Hail had nothing to look for on his patrols. There was no one that would covet what he and Payout afforded for themselves. There was no one who looked to disturb them, not with the nearest neighbor an hour’s drive away. A moon was a spacious home, even if it was empty.

What he definitely did not anticipate to find on his daily rounds was a tall, green, horned mech striding through a patch of glass fiber that Hail had coded into the soil not three days ago.

“Ey!”

He hollered, transforming in a flurry of white dust.

“The frag ya doin’ in my fibers, mech?!”

 

“Mm?” Maximo paused as someone stopped to yell at him. It was a novel experience, being yelled at, so he allowed it to continue. He couldn’t remember the last time  _ anyone _ yelled at him. “Your fibers?”

He looked down at the glass he had been trampling without much care. Why would anyone make those  _ here _ ? Who would even bother aside from this… farmer?

“I was walking on them,” he said, shaking his feet clean of the fibers, “because I wanted to go where they were.”

 

“Ain’t no way to be treatin’ a mech’s fibers, ya fraggin’ glitch! Who raised ya, Unicron?!” 

Hail was not a patient mech, or one filled with hospitality. It didn’t matter that this green one towered over him. He’d survived visits from Overlord and Tarn and Megatron, he could handle himself. His blasters formed with a show of cyan biolights.

“Ya got about two seconds to be steppin’ on the path and not the fibers.”

 

“You could say that,” Maximo said. He stared the guns down and stepped onto the path. “There, your fibers are quite unharmed now.”

What kind of second-forged did not recognize him? Had so much time passed with such a loss of information? Was he barely a footnote anymore, or closer to a legend? “Who are you?” he asked, walking along the path closer to the secondary. “Perhaps you will be useful as a guide.”

 

At least he’d done as Hail demanded. Good. So he wasn’t completely defiant. Or maybe he was just unarmed. Typical NAILs. Hail would spit on the lot of them if he could, preferably from Luna-2. 

“Guide? Buddy, I’m lookin’ to guide your aft to be tumblin’ into space. You come to my property, askin’ me who I am? That’s pretty rich.”

He put the gun away, narrowing his optics.

“You one of them useless colonists? Name’s Hail. Used to be lieutenant but now it’s just Hail.” he patted his Decepticon badge with no small amount of pride.

 

“I did not know you owned this area,” Maximo said, “nor what you are a lieutenant of.” He glanced around and saw that they were alone. “I am no colonist either. Consider me… a lost wanderer. I am Maximo.”

He stepped closer and was pleased to note the secondary was only tall enough to reach his waist. So they had not changed  _ too _ much. “I came to escape something. Unfortunately, my arrival here was less expected.”

 

“A convict?” Hail didn’t much like the fact that he was so much shorter than the mech - Maximo, why did that sound familiar? - but he was still the landlord around here and in control.

“You ain’t got no badge, you been livin’ under a titan or somethin’? I’m a Decepticon. And don’t go thinkin’ or sayin’ that that’s over with, ‘cos it matters.”

The mech’s expression didn’t change. Primus, he musta gotten one of the really dim ones. Pretty, but dim as the Pits.

“You know? Civil war and all that? Decepticons versus Autobots? Big ol’ slagfest?”

 

“You will have to enlighten me.” It seemed that he was no longer seen as a threat. It was, again, another novel experience for Liege Maximo to be so thoroughly underestimated by someone. Why, that hadn’t happened since he first met the other members of the Thirteen and they assumed he was one of Onyx’s subordinates!

Perhaps he should have made himself smaller. Could he set up a glamour? When he reached for his powers, however, they did not reply. It was like trying to blow life into embers and watching them fade to black each time.

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Maximo said, “and I am quite lost.”

 

“Lost, huh?” Hail eyed the stranger who’d supplied a strange name. Payout would know where this guy was from. Even his voice was strange, sort of haughty, with an accent Hail had never heard before. 

“Hold on a minute.”

Payout was also a much better judge of character, and he’d be pissed if Hail just executed a trespasser without even calling.

_ ::Hey, sweetaft, we got a wanderer on our field. Want me to pop ‘im?:: _

 

_ ::Is he threatening you?:: _ Payout paused in his work over the console, before he went back to typing at furious speeds. He could just link himself in, but typing was calming to do. Satisfying.  _ ::Or did you just forget what the bank correspondent looks like again?:: _

Technically, he didn’t have to work anymore after Hail hauled in his fat bounty. Payout needed something to do, however, and he couldn’t abide  _ not _ doing something, so he was working anyway. It wasn’t like this stuff was hard anyway - helping set up the new bank back on Cybertron wasn’t too bad when he was just an off-site accountant. All he did was tap numbers for a few hours.

_ ::You can’t shoot those guys,:: _ he reminded,  _ ::not even if they’re on your fibers.:: _

 

_ ::Nah, this guy is...weird. Real tall. I’m thinkin’ he’s some Neutral got hopped up on boosters and took a bad trip to the moon, you know? Should I bring him to the house?:: _

Hail wondered if the mech he was currently keeping an optic on even had a concept of where he was and that the distant collection of lights was, in fact, Cybertron. 

 

_ ::It’s that or letting him die outside, and the second brings down property value. Bring him in.:: _

Maximo waited as he watched the secondary chat with someone on his comm. He no longer seemed careful of him, so he continued to sidle closer until he could delicately raise his servo in offering. “You’ve got something there,” he said and brushed his servo across Hail’s shoulder.

A spark of his power jumped from his fingers and Maximo smiled warmly, though it did not reach his eyes. “I am glad we’ve managed to become such good acquaintances,” he said carefully, “and that you have decided to offer me temporary lodging. Some sense of pity, of course, for the oddity walking outside.”

 

“Yeah, well, you know me, I’m just a good mech.” Hail couldn’t even remember why he’d cocked his weapons in the first place. This guy was no threat. It was perfectly normal to invite him over, introduce him to Payout, have a drink with him...yeah. Why not?

“Well, come on, best not to keep my ‘junx waitin’, that usually ends in a bollockin’ for me.”

He transformed and made a lazy u-turn, waiting for the stranger to take a suitable form.

 

The transformation he witnessed was an ugly, inelegant one and Liege Maximo shuddered as Hail’s shape changed. He had no transformation of his own - nothing like  _ that _ , anyway - so he simply walked after him. On the wide, flat plains of Luna-2, it was hardly as if he was going to lose sight of him.

“I’ll walk,” he said, giving a small, cold smile, “Thank you.”

Through the corner of his eye, he saw Cybertron. It winked at him mockingly and grief gripped his spark for a moment. Maximo turned away before he could get caught up, however, and let his sorrow be tempered with fury. Vigilem was still down there, he knew, and his body deserved to be rested with respect. He would not allow the vultures of the traitor Primes to circle around the one true thing in this world.

“I’ll find you again,” he promised to the star that was Cybertron, “in this life or the next.”

Turning away, he followed the dust trail that Hail kicked up with his wheels.

 

Hail didn’t look back to see if Maximo was following, he simply assumed the mech didn’t want him to see his alt, which was weird, but he’d dealt with stranger things.

The dust his wheels ground was white and fine, it got into gears all the time and he had begun to enjoy daily rituals in the fresher, especially when his grouchy conjunx got in there with him. The thought of it alone had him speed along the road, all the way home to the small cluster of buildings that had become theirs. It wasn’t much, but he was proud of it. He’d provided it for them, a little life off the beaten track, something for them to care for and call theirs.

“Payout? Get your fine aft out here!” he called as he transformed back to root before the main building, finally turning to see how much he’d outpaced their guest.

 

Curiously, Liege Maximo was right behind him. He offered a small bob of his helm before his gaze slid to the mech who opened the door. Another secondary, he surmised without surprise, about as ordinary as this one. Even smaller than him, to his private amusement.

“Hello,” he said, “I am Maximo. I… got lost.”

Payout ignored him. “Why the frag’s he here?” he asked Hail.

 

“What? I invited him. We ain’t savages, and he’s lost. Just gonna let ‘im orientate himself.” Hail wondered why Payout didn’t remember him telling his conjunx about it. They’d never really had any guests, so they might as well show their hospitable side, right?

“‘S name is Maximo. He’s a bit...tall. But he’ll fit inside.”

 

“ _ You _ invited him?” Payout gave Maximo a shrewd look. Maximo, in turn, was placid. “...fine. Come in. Don’t touch anythin’.”

Payout moved back from the door, letting Hail and Maximo step inside. The door was low enough that he had to duck deeply to fit, but at least the ceilings here were comfortably high. The home of these two was… quaint.

It was not the silver city that he called home, but it was… suitable. The walls were solid, if plain, and the floor was neatly tiled. Each room was adequately spaced, though distinctly lacking in aesthetic polish. The only thing that seemed like it possessed  _ any _ artistic flair was the far wall in the sitting room, which was decorated with countless pictures and plaques.

Liege Maximo did not examine any of them. Instead, his attention was taken up by something else. The holo was online and though its volume had been brought down to a low drone, he could see the events play over its screen.

It was Vigilem, kneeling, dark, dead, and his spark squeezed with something that made him prickle all over. His face was still controlled, but the pain inside him howled like a trapped beast. He clenched his fist for a moment, then let go.

“You live here?” he asked neutrally. “Why not Cybertron?”

_ Were you  _ **_there_ ** _? _

 

“Cybertron’s crowded. Bit overrated too. I mean, everythin’ crazy always happens there.” Hail got himself a cube from their dispenser, not thinking to offer his guest any fuel as he sipped it messily. 

He gestured to the holoscreen.

“Look at that scrap. Undead titans, crazy evil ones, ain’t my paygrade. We got a front row seat up here.”

 

“...I see.” Liege relaxed and the dark rage crawling up his throat eased. He looked back to the screen and drifted closer, eyes glued to Vigilem’s face. They were in the process of prying his battle mask and visor off, and Maximo wanted to choke. The dear face under it was still, set in a faint frown, as if he was offended by the fact that he dared be dead.

He reached out and touched it. It was only cool glass against his fingers, nothing like the real person.

Behind Maximo, Payout shared a look with Hail. Silently, he gestured at the glitch touching their holoscreen with a pointed, unimpressed expression. 

 

“Uh...you one of them titan fetishists?” Hail had zero sense of tact, or ability to read a situation. All he saw was a mech being weird and damn right he was going to call him out on it. Titans were a weird thing he never quite understood. The only one he’d seen was Trypticon, and that was during unpleasant moments of battle. Well, he’d seen the undead ones raining down on Cybertron, but that didn’t count. He and Payout had fragged vigorously just in case this was another apocalypse.

“Carcer saved the planet, they said. Don’t remember why he’s offline now.”

 

He ignored the first question and chose to answer the one that wasn’t a question at all. “He is offline due to the foolishness of others,” Maximo said, “because of short-sightedness.”

With a sigh, he turned from the holo and walked towards the two. “I will need to stay here for a little bit,” he said, “largely because I must rest before I can move on. Until then… please, allow me to stay.”

He brushed against Payout and something fizzled between them. “I am sure you would welcome me,” he said, and Payout frowned before slowly nodding.

“...Yeah, yeah, nothin’ wrong with that. You can stay for a bit, ain’t no trouble. We got that extra room, don’t we, Hail?”

 

“Yeah, sure, I ain’t plannin’ any get togethers soon. S’got a dispenser and a console, if you need to be callin’ anyone.” It was also the furthest from their berthroom, which Maximo would thank them for if he ever knew what kinda noisy fragger Payout could be.

“Uh...so, how’d you get lost? Don’t think ya told me.”

 

“I have many enemies. Some of them found me. I ran away and I got lost.” He glanced around. “I didn’t intend to arrive here, of all places. Luna-1 would have been more preferable.”

He looked between the two, expression growing faintly wistful. “Are you two involved?” he asked, glancing between them. “I loved someone, once. He died to my enemies.”

The counter that Payout leaned against was too short for him to comfortably reach. With some concentration, he began to shrink enough to fit more comfortably. “Don’t mind me,” he said, “this is normal.”

“Absolutely,” Payout agreed. “Guess you’ll fit on the berth now.”

 

“Yeah, for sure. And yeah, we’ve been known to knock pistons now and then,” Hail’s grin was filthy as he elbowed Payout. It wasn’t often he could brag with having a conjunx, though by his accounts, he should be able to do so every day.

“Lots of mecha lose someone they love, you ain’t the only one. Just gotta be smart about it, see? Don’t let no one know you care, and then take ‘em to a nice moon farm to retire.”

 

He tilted his helm. “What a lovely story. How did you meet?”

Perhaps hiding their relationship would have ended more cleanly for them. And yet, it had never been an option at all. Vigilem was not a dirty secret that Maximo had needed to conceal. He tried to picture Vigilem caring about glass fibers and only pictured him trampling them all instead.

“Do people… care that you are here? Together?” Something glinted in his eyes. “Would they have stopped you?”

“Back then? Maybe. Probably.” Payout shrugged. “Don’t really care ‘bout my function though. I dunno what Hail here is even supposed to be, anyway.”

 

“I was supposed to be bangin’ you, and I achieved it. I’m a fraggin’ model of Functionist perfection, slag it.” Hail had definitely already sipped some high-grade, which was what filled the cube he still had in hand.

“Functionists could suck my aft. I ain’t no one’s tool.”

Hail had, in fact, been intended to labor in construction, a generic function that he absolutely never felt like fulfilling.

 

“Functionist? Tell me about that.” His audials pricked at the ugly name and all that it implied. Could it still be… after all this time? After Cybertron suffered another war against it? Surely not. Surely, history would not repeat itself again.

“Slag, you really know nothin’,” Pryce said, impressed despite himself. “Didn’t think there’d be someone who  _ didn’t _ know what it is. S’bad news. You got your role, you got your function to do. Can’t step outta it.”

“...does it remain?” he asked. If it did, was sparing Cybertron even worth it anymore? Wasn’t destroying it ultimately the  _ kinder _ thing to do?

“Ah? Nah, mech, s’got fragged. Decepticons.” Payout raised his fist for Hail to bump. “Frag Functionism - we pick our own way.”

 

Hail let his fist crash into Payout’s with a loud clang, grin on his lips. There was no way he’d ever not be proud of having stood for something. Even if his reasons for joining up were entirely selfish and had been rooted in what Hail needed at the time, rather than some big-minded, revolutionary notion.

“See, we stood up to that. Ain’t no one tellin’ us what we can’t be and who we can be with. Fraggin’ Cybertron burned for four mills before this slaggin’ peace came about. And now, no one’s gotta do the thing they’re made for.”

 

“Really?” Maximo quirked a brow at the proud statement. “Have you ever considered the titans? They live as colonies, cities… has anyone in this revolution asked if  _ they _ liked being what they are?”

From Payout, he pulled out a strand of information. “Trypticon,” he murmured, “has anyone asked if he wanted to serve as a warship?”

Payout shrugged. “It never came up.” To be honest,  _ he _ never considered it. It didn’t seem important - after all, if the titans wanted that, they would’ve spoken up, right? As far as he knew, not one ever did. It wasn’t as if anyone was going to tell a  _ titan _ no. ‘Sides, the only other titan in the war was Metroplex, and  _ he _ could go smelt himself. “Don’t see no titans askin’ ‘bout it.”

“One did,” Maximo said, “he hated being a city. He was punished for it.”

 

Hail looked at the holoscreen again, but the picture of Carcer had become some interview with Starscream and he lost interest immediately.

“How d’you know that? I ain’t never heard of any rebellious titans. Slag, that would be a fraggin’ mess. That down there would be nothin’.”

 

“I knew him, once,” he said. “It  _ was _ a mess. Unfortunately, not even titans can withstand army after army. He… was forced into doing what he hated most. It was the cruelest punishment imaginable.”

He grew melancholy as he spoke and, despite himself, that age-old envy of the secondaries sparked inside him. Here these two were, simple and small as anything, and yet, they had what he and Vigilem wanted most. These two weren’t even the greatest of their kind, but they got to enjoy the freedom that a titan and a Prime could not.

Why did they get to enjoy this, and not him? Why were these two alive, and not Vigilem?

Why could they defy the world and be  _ rewarded _ for it?

“...what would you have done if this rebellion of yours failed? If one of you became the unwilling warden of the other?”

“Set it all on fire,” Payout shrugged as he slipped away from the counter. “Do it again. Slag, s’not complicated.” He turned the holo off, banishing Starscream’s face from their home. “You do what you gotta do. You kill whoever’s in the way an’ you keep breakin’ things ‘til people get the message.”

He settled in at his desk, pulling up his numbers. “Shouldn’t be hard, if you want it ‘nough.”

Maximo was silent for a moment. “I suppose you feel the same?” he asked Hail after a quiet moment. “To destroy a world that denies you?”

 

“Slag yeah. What good’s a world that ain’t gonna let me have what I want? I ain’t askin’ for much.”

Hail thought it was...odd for this mech to know Carcer - and it could only be Carcer, because no other titan had entered the conversation - but it wasn’t entirely unheard of. Maybe it explained the guy’s original size too. Some of the oldest mecha alive still recalled the beginnings, when the titans first appeared. And the Primes, of course.

But Hail couldn’t name a Prime held at gunpoint.

“Justice and all that’s overrated. You gotta carve your place and be happy when ya got a frame next to ya that you ain’t loathin’.”

 

What an odd little couple he found here. Two retired soldiers, married and living on the moon. It sounded like a fairytale. Maximo considered them - their histories, their faces, their stories - and turned back to the wall. He could see himself faintly reflected there.

An army of discontents burned the world for denying them, just like he had. In this very hab, there were three Great Betrayers. Were their crimes really so disparate, when it achieved the same things? Did the number of people he kill matter when they, as a whole, killed as many?

Did it matter when  _ you _ were the victor?

“Should I kill my enemies then?” he asked, largely to humor himself. “The ones who killed my love - should I kill them too? And then, should I burn everything that hurt me?” His gaze narrowed into gold slits. “It’ll hurt many people. It’ll probably  _ kill _ many people who won’t deserve it.”

“Yes,” Payout said without hesitation. “If it matters, you do.”

 

“People always get killed. Way I see it, it’s the only thing to kill a transformer, ain’t it? Only way to make some space for the rest of us.” Hail shrugged, finding no reason to persuade someone not to commit mass slaughter. Primus knew, he’d do just that if he ever ran the risk of losing Payout. Or you know, he’d die trying to take down as many bastards as he could.

“We ain’t good at peace. Golden Age was slag, the war was slag, and this new peace business is rotten already. Won’t be long til someone kills someone and starts it all off again.”

 

“I think that is something to be agreed on,” Maximo said. “I think I am tired now. You don’t need to answer me anymore. Go enjoy your life with your partner and don’t come to my room - you know it is unnecessary. No one else needs to be told, either. Please - just live.”

He patted Hail’s shoulder as he walked past him, into the room they intended him to stay in. It was clean, it had room, and it had a console - he needed nothing else.

When he was gone, Payout looked up. “What a freak,” he said, “he’s  _ totally _ one of those titan fetishists.”

 

“Mech, you got a glossa on ya that’s just acid, you know that?” Hail chuckled, not even considering keeping tabs on his guest. He just seemed to have a very trustworthy demeanour, who wouldn’t put their faith in his servos?

“Maybe one of them Camien activists. Saw a documentary ‘bout them once, they start cryin’ when ya mention one of the dead titans. Probably offin’ themselves by the legions right now.”


	6. Chapter 6

_ City-speaker. Wake up. _

Vigilem had been trapped within the confines of Windblade’s tiny mind for days now. He only knew from her chronometer, which ticked on dutifully, and her audials, which picked up the concerned medics shuffling around whatever room she’d been put into.

_ Windblade. Awaken. _

She was still and unresponsive and the city her mind resembled was dark and unaware. Judging from the buildings’ style, it was some sort of Camien city and that alone gnawed at Vigilem’s patience. Caminus was out there, as were the few remaining titans, and none of them would be of help when it came to his lord. Who, as far as Vigilem knew, might not even have escaped very far or well. The few words of gossip he’d picked up through Windblade’s senses did inform him that his plan had succeeded and his Prime was free. He ached with joy at the thought, but longed for the connection that had severed when he left his frame behind.

At least he wasn’t dead. The only thing he had to do now was to somehow reach his beloved lord. Liege would know what to do.

_ You rusting little bitch, I demand you answer me. _

Vigilem’s patience was non-existent and he jolted his power into Windblade’s dormant mind. She had to be awake for this to work.

 

She came online with a harsh gasp. Her optics flooded the dark room with light and Windblade panicked for a second before she realized she was in one of the private wards of the hospital. She must have been brought in after collapsing within Vigilem.

The pain in her helm was gone now, but she felt tired still. Her mind felt uncomfortably busy, like when she spent too many hours speaking Metroplex and junk data was starting to clog her processor.

Speaking of titans, what had happened to Vigilem? Elita? She’d fallen before she saw everything and there was no one in the room to inform her. Windblade got up, not minding the vitals cables connected to her helm, and was about to reach for the call button when she paused.

_ … hello? _ She said in her own mind, not expecting a reply.

 

_ It’s about time you stopped resting. For such an empty mind, your processor seems too burdened. _

Vigilem had waited for hours to get moving on his hastily devised plan and all that stood in his way was Windblade’s sluggish attitude and condition. He was still brimming with restless energy. From what he’d gleaned from the medics that bustled around the city speaker, his beloved had disappeared. He was free though, and it scared those who knew.

It made Vigilem ravenous to have control of a communications array and a frame to operate.

 

_ What happened? _ She asked blearily. Then after a moment, she asked,  _...Vigilem? _

For that matter, when had the lights turned on? Windblade moved and the buckles holding her still released. The walls were suddenly too smooth, the floor a little too shiny, and, when she pinched herself, she felt only an echo of pain.

They were not in the hospital at all. They were… in her mind?

“What happened?” she asked again. “Did you  _ download _ yourself into me?”

 

_ I had no choice. I did not want to die. This is hardly ideal. Your mind and form are far too small. _

Vigilem allowed himself to take form, small as Windblade’s own projection, which ill-suited him. It was only part of his spark and his mind in her, the rest of him had died. His optics blazed crimson, even if his body glowed an uncertain, pale blue.

 

“So Elita did kill you?” She looked away. The murder of a titan was always something reprehensible. It was to kill a living piece of history. It was to kill someone older than the Primes. “That’s horrible.”

Their shared mental space was rapidly deteriorating. Windblade watched a distant building fall silently before she looked back at Vigilem. He no longer seemed as friendly as before though - his expression was cold, even a little haughty. Shadows flickered behind his face. If she peered closely, she thought she saw something else in the depths of his form.

“Why was she so determined?” Windblade wondered. “What was she so  _ scared  _ of?”

 

“Her foolish ancestors made an oath. To keep me and my lord forever in stasis, imprisoned within my frame.”

There was no sense in cutting away the details of history now. He was in Windblade’s mind, and it was crumbling to his will. Every building that collapsed would be replaced by whatever he chose. The mind of a titan was as all-encompassing as his frame and spark.

And it would not tolerate the presence of a weaker mind.

“I imagine she fears the wrath of Liege Maximo now, as she probably should.”

 

She looked to him. “I don’t want him to hurt Cybertron,” she said, “he was in you, wasn’t he? That door you wanted me to open so much -  _ that _ was where he was.”

So Elita had rushed in to prevent the opening? Evidently, she had failed. The way Vigilem spoke now, Liege Maximo was out. “How much of everything was a lie?” she asked after a beat of silence. “The entire story of being in love - was that made up?”

 

“No!” He thundered, face drawn into a scowl, the blaze of his optics intensifying. His anger was boundless, but he himself was bound to Windblade for the moment.

“I love him far more than anyone would understand. That is how I could die for him. But that is also why I must return to him. And you will help me, city-speaker.”

Another tower crumbled and fell behind Vigilem and his scowl smoothed into a more reasonable expression.

“I let you feel what I feel. You know that it is the truth. Regardless of what you specks fear and what you try to rouse in defense...I must find Maximo. We have been parted for too long.”

 

“I can’t let you hurt Cybertron,” Windblade said, and her helm ached again. “You’re - I want to help you, but I can’t allow that. If you’re out…”

More shadows flickered over Vigilem’s face. Windblade looked into them and saw death. Behind his face, a slaughter lingered. “...you hate all of us, don’t you?” she asked.

Another building fell over. She looked to it, then at Vigilem. “You won’t unite with him. Not if I can stop it.”

 

“You can’t stop me. You’re weak. I am a titan, you dull speck,” Vigilem no longer masked the sheer hatred he felt for Windblade and all of her kind. They had hurt him too many times, taken from him for the last time.

“I regret ever letting a single spark escape from me. I should have crushed them before they ever had a chance to betray us! I won’t let Maximo stand alone against the barbaric masses of your kind.”

 

She shuddered as his hatred washed over her, but still stood firm. They were in  _ her _ mind and his power did not matter here. He was but a fragment of himself, hurriedly forced into her for safekeeping while the greater whole was destroyed.

“What do you think you’ll accomplish in here?” she said, looking around. “Do you think I will  _ help _ you? No. I’ll keep you here with me, even if I have to die. You won’t get out. You won’t reunite with Liege Maximo. And wherever he is, he’ll be found and stopped before he can do whatever horrible thing you are planning. You were stopped once.”

She squared her shoulders. “It can be done a second time.”

 

“Not by the likes of you,” Vigilem’s voice came from everywhere and his bitter laughter echoed throughout the desolate city. He held up a hand to demonstrate his power, stripping down six blocks as he clenched his fists. In their place, pale blue buildings, untouched, without windows or doors, rose.

“Your mind will crumble if I choose, Windblade. You will be nothing, unless I am merciful. You trusted me before; now I will give you reason to obey. Do as I command, and I will let you live. I won’t even turn you into an instrument of death.”

 

“No,” she said, even as her helm ached, “this is  _ my _ mind, Vigilem. You have no place here. You do not command  _ me _ here.”

Now that the rotten center of the titan was clear, she was no longer willing to extend the first peaceful servo. If she had to fight… so be it. The Camien city around her was well-known to her and this was her mind; she would not lose here.

In her servo, her sword burst into life. In the pale blue wash of everything, it was a livid violet. “That’s not how this works.  _ You _ don’t belong here.”

 

“I belong at Maximo’s side, and  _ you  _ won’t stop me!”

 

-x-

 

A titan could not be stopped. No matter which way one examined it, that existed as a Cybertronian truth. A titan could be killed, beaten down and forced to obey, but they could never be halted if they chose to do something.

Or if they felt desperate to do so.

Vigilem took Windblade’s mind away from her, wrenched out of her grasp after a gruelling battle. Imprisoning her within her own body was ironically cruel of him, and necessary. And yet, even after her defeat, he could not use her communication channels. Or at least, he couldn’t key them into his lord’s. The silence continued, but at least, he had tools.

Vigilem had to think fast and on his proverbial feet. How would he escape this body? How would he make sure that this city-speaker did not become his new, upgraded prison? Keeping her down would work for a while, as he allowed her mannerisms to be copied, let her mind reach out enough to talk without rousing suspicion. But what then? How was he to find Maximo in this new, terrible world?

His answer came with a blue Camien and a mission.

He bristled as Starscream demanded Maximo’s helm. Who was this arrogant speck, to think himself an adversary worthy to send an assassin? Vigilem would make sure to tear him apart  _ second _ , right after Elita-1.

Chromia, the assassin, suspected nothing when ‘Windblade’ asked to join on her quest, though she seemed reluctant to put the city-speaker at risk. A weak point? Affection? Vigilem would make sure to sour it later, for Windblade to watch.

Her mind, he kept in a tight little box. One she could not stand up or move in, but she was perfectly capable of hearing.

Vigilem sowed poison, and if he let Windblade survive, she’d have the consequences of those seeds to deal with.

 

-x-

 

They travelled for months. Liege Maximo was always just a step ahead, a whisper in the wind by the time they touched ground. Vigilem yearned for him, but praised his crafty escapes each time. The longer the chase, however, the weaker the titan’s flickering spark fragment. He needed to catch up to his lord.

And so, he began to guide Windblade and through her, Chromia, in the right direction. 

The city speaker's mind was crowded with his presence and he only let her control her own actions so that her companion and bodyguard would not grow suspicious. It was meticulous work, ensuring that Windblade would not try to give herself and her passenger mind away, requiring Vigilem’s total attention.

In the rare moments of peace, for him, such as when Windblade’s exhausted mind collapsed for rest, he thought of his lord. Would he know what to do? Would he be relieved that Vigilem survived? He had no doubt of it, but he suspected his lord too would mourn his true frame, as he did. Aside from his musings, Vigilem pined for him, craving the moment of their reunion.

Every step of Chromia and Windblade’s path was his doing, every prediction of his lord’s next jump in space with his knowledge. 

Until the day came that his lord could no longer sense them coming, and Chromia faced a Prime with hopes to slay him.

 

-x-

 

Someone was hunting him. Liege Maximo had experience with being hunted, so he stayed far away from them. And yet, his hunters were eerily familiar with his steps, seeming to dog him with awful, exhaustive determination. He had to pace himself so he didn’t expend all his power running, but he was growing harried.

At the height of his power, this would not have happened. He could have folded reality around him like a cloak to conceal himself. Now, though… now, he was reduced. He could leap from planet to planet - star systems, if he rested for a long time and pushed himself. But he couldn’t keep this up forever.

Them finding him was more Liege Maximo allowing it than any true victory on their end. They had to be dealt with, permanently, if he ever wanted to taste respite.

He stood at the end of the alley warily, watching the two bloodhounds who’d followed him for so long. The little colony they found themselves in was just a mere trade outpost - one of the many small settlements that peacefully coexisted with aliens, living off mining and trade. Liege Maximo was an unknown here - a tall, horned mechanism was hardly the strangest face passing by.

He considered the tattered fabric between them. He managed to twist out of the way of the surprise attack, but his cloak had not been so lucky. Another small hit had also been scored on him, though the tiny cut on his face could hardly be called an injury.

His fuel glowed as it dripped down his cheek. Liege reached up and touched it, wiped it away, and considered his would-be assassins. “I suppose we can’t strike a deal?” he offered.

“No,” the blue one bit out and darted forward for him again. Once again, Maximo slipped around her like smoke, unnaturally quick and flexible despite the tight quarters and his size.

He looked to the other one, who had yet to attack him. “Camien,” he grunted, seeing the red paint around her optics, “so I see Caminus remains bitter for crimes millennia-old.”

 

There was war inside of Windblade. She could not have responded to Maximo even if she had heard his words. Vigilem was strangling her screaming mind into obedience, his desperation making him cruel. He forced her to her knees, in her mindscape and in reality and when those red-painted optics lifted to face Maximo, they blazed crimson.

“Caminus will pay for his grudge, my liege. As will they all.”

 

“...oh?” He had no expected  _ that _ . Then why had the blue one attacked him? Was this a betrayal in the ranks?

The blue one twisted to attack him again, and Liege Maximo tilted his helm. “I don’t know you,” he said, “but if you are loyal - handle  _ her _ .”

He sidestepped another swing of her sword. It burned uncomfortably close to him and he slunk back. He could fight her - he thought, at least. He did not want to test it when his power was so uncertain, wavering like a candle in the wind. To lose to a secondary would be humiliating.

 

“Of course.” 

Everything in Windblade struggled, but Vigilem held nothing back and forced the city-speaker to follow and obey. If he remembered correctly and saw true through her optics, his beloved lord was not at full strength. No matter. Vigilem threw Windblade forward, into Chromia’s path. He cared little if she'd get damaged as he raised her blaster and opened fire on a very confused Chromia. She didn't seem eager to fight her speaker, instead questioning the purpose of Windblade’s interference. Vigilem deigned to answer her.

“Your city-speaker can hear you, but today, she speaks for no one. Surrender, Chromia. Or I will crush her mind to nothingness.”

 

“I don’t know who you are…” Chromia said, her hands tightening around her sword, “but my job is to  _ protect _ her.”

The two clashed and Maximo stepped back. He considered leaving them to their fight, but the arrival of a potential servant distracted him too much. He touched the walls and the sound of their combat was dampened. Then, he slid along the shadows, squeezing away from both, and focused on the city-speaker.

Did he know her? No… she could not be one of his, either. Why did a spawn of Caminus call him liege? Was this a ploy to make him falter?

“Windblade, I know you’re in there. Fight!”

He saw the swords they fought with. How… archaic. Liege Maximo copied the style, bending the shadows around him to make facsimile.

 

“She cannot fight me! Nothing stands before a titan, you insignificant speck!” Windblade’s frame thrust itself into the sword, only so she could be close enough to shoot the blue Camien in the chest.

“I waged war before your spark ever crawled out of Caminus and you dare attack  _ my liege?! _ ”

 

“Windblade,” Chromia persisted, ignoring the words coming out of her friend, “speak to me. Whatever this is, you’re  _ stronger _ -”

Chromia was cut off as a shower of sparks exploded from her chest. She looked down at the blade jutting out, optics pale, and Liege Maximo bent to look at the city-speaker in front of them. “Who  _ are  _ you?” he asked.

He pulled the sword back, but it was already shattering in his hands. A single use, he frowned. Once, weapons of his make would have lasted as long as he wanted them to. The blue ‘bot fell, gasping, but she was inconsequential. Maximo hung back, wary, and regarded this strange new face. “You are young,” he said, “but you act as if you are older.”

Shadows reformed and he pointed the sword at her. It was brittle and it seeped shadows from its edge, but his point was clear. “And you are  _ no _ titan.”

 

Windblade’s optics brightened, relief forming on her entire face. She wanted to kneel, but she was already so short in comparison with the Prime that it did not matter whatsoever. 

“I am sorry for my appearance, my liege,” the least Vigilem could do was twist the paint on her plating to match his own and depart from resemblance to Caminus.

“It's me. Vigilem.”

 

He had been willing to listen, but fury flashed through him like an ice-storm when Vigilem was mentioned. His wary expression became ugly with pain as he grabbed the little ‘bot and lifted her to slam her against the opposite wall. He leaned in close, close enough that he saw the mockery of the paint around her optics. It wasn’t Caminus’ - it was Vigilem’s, and the grief that strangled his spark made him shake with rage.

“Do  _ not _ speak his name,” he hissed, “it doesn’t  _ deserve _ to come out of your mouth, Camien!”

His teeth were clenched tight together as Maximo snarled. “I don’t  _ care _ what you can promise me, his name is not for  _ anyone _ to claim. Say it again, and I will drop you into Unicron’s hands  _ myself _ .”

 

“My liege, it  _ is  _ me!” Vigilem didn't struggle, he couldn't have in this frame, not against Maximo. He'd have to explain himself quickly, even if his spark fragment stirred with happy anxiety to know his beloved grieved for him still.

“This city speaker sought to control me. I escaped through her mind. Maximo, you must know I would not die so easily.”

 

Despite his misgivings, his foolish spark still surged with hope. But he wasn’t someone who trusted easily. If he let himself hope now and it all proved to be false, he was only setting himself for agony down the line. “I will see your lies,” he snapped and his hand covered half her face.

The last remnants of his restored power flowed into her mind. Liege Maximo burst through carelessly, too angry to use finesse. He uprooted her defenses, searching for the ugly little truth inside her. Vigilem was  _ dead _ . He was gone. Liege Maximo had seen him with his own eyes and felt the link die in his mind.

_ I will snap your mind for your lies, _ he growled inside her. As he prepared to tear through her, however, something flickered. It was weak and small, but it was familiar, so familiar, that he dropped everything to find it.

What was it? Who was it? It couldn’t be, it couldn’t, he was  _ dead _ …

_...Vigilem? _

 

_ My liege... _ the exhausted fragment of the titan flickered warmly, found by his lord at last. Vigilem knew he could not stay in Windblade's mind forever, so it had been a matter of urgency to find his lord, but now that Maximo was before him, he felt shame for being so much less than whole.

_ You found me. _

 

_ No, my dear titan, you found  _ **_me_ ** _.  _ Joy burst through the tentative link like a day of sunlight. He let go of the city-speaker and knelt before her, gaze intent.

_ I saw you die. How are you in this secondary? _

 

_ I downloaded a piece of my mind when she sought to master me. I...did not intend to die to free you, but it was a likely possibility. Now, part of my spark lingers in this Camien. _

And Vigilem did not know how long he had. Across their link, he reached for Liege, thirsting to feel anything as joy spilled from him in uncontrolled bursts.

_ You're free, at long last. I am so sorry, Maximo, I should never have let them put me to sleep. _

It wasn't as if he'd been given a choice, but Vigilem blamed himself for not protecting his Prime during their most crucial battle.

 

_ The time for apologies is past. What matters is that you are alive and I am free. _

Everything else could be solved. They were reunited now, having overcome the prisons of people greater than those they faced now. 

_ I cannot lose you again. Can you not displace this Camien? I need you here.  _

 

_ Nothing would please me more than to be at your side, but if I strangle her mind completely, her spark will die and so will I.  _

It was another prison, albeit one of Vigilem’s own doing. He would much prefer to be with his lord, nestled against a mind he loved and cherished, but he would never ask so much of Maximo. He wasn’t sure if he could transfer himself again, but out of Windblade’s mind, he might even get to rest his fragment. Liege Maximo was so close, and yet still too far. Longing met the invading, third mind from every side, swarming the Prime with his titan’s affections.

_ I was...hoping you might know of a way to return me to my frame. This one is much too small for me.  _

Would Maximo allow him into his own mind and spark? Vigilem did not dare ask.

 

_ My power is greatly diminished, Vigilem. I… am not what I used to be. _

It hurt to admit, but lying was no use here. The proof was already in his inability to escape two mere hunters.  _ Your frame is still whole. I have seen it. But I am not strong enough to do it while repelling the attacks that will surely follow it. _

For now, however, he could not allow Vigilem to be stuck inside this speaker. That much was in his power.

_ Leave her. Come to me. Take shelter inside me for once. It won’t even begin to repay how much you have done for me. _

 

_ My liege, I will have to take you up on your offer.  _ Vigilem’s gratitude was instant, as was his detachment from Windblade’s mind. It was a world of difference, to be embraced by a mind strong enough to bear him, rather than squeezing into the small space in a secondary’s. Vigilem trusted Liege Maximo without reserve, folding himself against his beloved lord, their minds mingling gently rather than the violent takeover the titan had staged with Windblade.

It was concerning that the Prime was weakened, though. It was the reason Chromia and Windblade had been able to catch up at all, which was good for Vigilem, but it also meant Liege wasn’t capable of the transfer. Not that it was a regular procedure for either of them, but Liege was wise and smart and would figure it out. 

It was odd to be almost one with Maximo. His mindscape was vastly different to Windblade’s, wider, intricate, filled with spiralling, obsidian towers. Vigilem felt at home, his guard relaxed as he idled in his lord’s mind.

_ You must extract my spark fragment from her, Maximo. _

It would be a physical process that Vigilem could not fulfill, only guide him through.

 

_ Your spark and hers? I am almost jealous. _

Despite his gentle humor, his attention was razor sharp. He wasted no time setting her down and prying open her chest. A whisper of his power persuaded her to open for him and then he wedged his claws into her chamber, searching.

The shard he picked out was tiny, guttering like a fire in wind. He cupped it in his hands, smiling, and kissed it gently.

_ I have missed you so much. _

His chest opened and he pressed this piece of Vigilem into himself with a sigh.

 

Vigilem’s mind fragment stuttered as his spark sought to hide itself in Liege’s chamber, gently trading plasma with the vibrant green of his pulsing, whole spark. It was but a tiny piece of Vigilem, just barely enough to sustain his mind, but it would be enough to reignite the titan’s great life, if manipulated inside of his old frame by the right mech. 

For now though, Vigilem was content to lace himself through pieces of Liege, his touch as delicate and soft as a slip of silk. There was nothing he had to conquer here, not when Maximo hosted him with such loving eagerness.

_ I’ve missed you too. I think...I think I was almost awake. Twice, maybe. The secondaries woke me, claimed me. We will tear them apart, all of them. They’ll pay for their betrayal. Dearly. _

Vigilem’s anger was still a potent force, even when he was nothing but a thought and a flickering spark.

 

_ Always _ , he promised.  _ But not yet. _

The truth of his loss was laid out in full now. The towering presence that he had been was now a shadow. He struggled to reach even a fraction of his ability. He was regaining it, piece by piece, but something was  _ missing. _

_ I am not whole. I am divided. They’ve cut me and taken me apart. I am… reduced… now. _

He stood and turned away from the two Camiens. They were unimportant to him. Live or die, it did not matter.

_ Do you feel it? Do you feel what is  _ **_missing_ ** _? _

 

_ Something...what did they take from you? I will make them pay. It will be my utmost pleasure to take them apart, piece by piece. Everything they treasure. Everything they strive for. _ Vigilem’s nature was becoming very much what he’d been during the first civil war on Cybertron; an avatar of wrath. His own, this time, and not merely the fury of his lord. He hated the secondaries with a passion that ran as deep as Caminus’ love for them. Even the reflection, the faint echo of his fellow titan within Windblade had reviled Vigilem.

He’d grown bitter, in his long sleep. Anger seethed all around Liege’s mind, his titan no longer concealing his true emotions.

_ Your… spark? It doesn't feel like before. _

 

_ That is because it is not like it was before. _

Maximo touched his chest where their sparks burned together.  _ I was opened up. Some part of me… removed. I know not where, but I  _ **_know_ ** _ it. It’s making me weak to recover. _

He walked out of the alley and blended into the crowd. Some of his power persuaded eyes to slide off of him, turning him into an faceless, featureless figures in everyone’s memories. Sometimes, small things like that  _ mattered _ .

_ You… help. A little. I feel less empty, with you. _ Even as Vigilem raged, Maximo lounged around him, nestled against his fury like it was a warm fire.  _ I never thanked you properly for what you did, Vigilem. Thank you. I wish it hadn’t had to come to that. _

 

_ I would do anything for you, Maximo. I did not fear death. _ He paused, pride ringing true in his spark for it. His loyalty was a thing he never questioned. Since the moment he decided that Liege Maximo deserved his utter respect and eternal loyalty, that had been the truth of him. And it still was, til this day, though love had many roots in this ground too. 

_ But I did fear leaving you behind. The world owes us our peace...and we owe it destruction. I can...reach out to Chela. He may know something more. He was the one to teach me how to open your prison.  _

 

_ Chela?  _ Maximo remembered the proud, vain creature that had been Onyx’s titan. Chela was stubborn - even more than most titans - and headstrong. He and Onyx had complemented each other in that.

_ He would help us? Why? _

It did not make sense, but perhaps the situation had changed since he was last out. Vigilem, by virtue of being awake a few days earlier than he, could know more.

_ If you spoke with Chela… is Onyx there? _

 

_ No. Actually, Chela gave me the code to release you in exchange. I vowed to help him find Onyx Prime, who has been absent for a long time. Long enough for his titan to question his purpose, I wager.  _

Vigilem wrapped his presence close as he could to Liege, revelling in the reunion. They shared a frame now, which was not ideal, but this was better than his Prime being imprisoned within him. Vigilem had never sought sanctuary in another being before, and it was strange to feel welcomed into a mind as vast and beautiful as Maximo’s.

 

_ Onyx… then perhaps our goals are aligned. Onyx was involved with my reduction, I know it. Perhaps he knows what happened to me. Perhaps… _

He quieted for a moment. They reached the shipyard of the outpost and Maximo looked upon each one. They were old and rickety to him, but suitable enough for his purposes.

_ The truth is out there, somewhere. I know so much has been lost to time already, but perhaps this ugly universe can afford us enough mercy to let us live again. _

 

_ I’m with you again. There is no greater reward for me.  _ Vigilem would be content once they’d had their revenge, but as long as he was with Liege Maximo, this close to him, their sparks entwined, everything else that the universe could throw at them did not matter. His love and loyalty had never wavered and it had sustained him through certain death.

 


End file.
